Closer
by everymonday
Summary: Modern P&P. A love story. Lizzie's a ballet dancer that may never dance again; Darcy's a doctor that helped save her leg. A story exploring love and how it drives people to do some of the things they do. COMPLETE!
1. Words Are Flying Out Like Endless Rain

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pride and Prejudice. I am not Jane Austen. I'm a college student with an overactive imagination and quite a bit of time.

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**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter One: Words Are Flying Out Like Endless Rain**

**---**

**December 22; 11:38PM**  
When does a relationship actually start? Does it start the moment hellos are exchanged? Maybe it starts with intention and determination and searching and longing. One could argue a relationship does start not as a collision of persons, but _souls_. It may be that a relationship does not begin until both partners know each other, technically, verbally, biblically, what have you. Perhaps a relationship starts at the very beginning of time, when all of our fates are written and calculated, if you believe that sort of thing. Maybe a relationship starts with two hands brushing each other on purpose finally. Or maybe, it starts just with two eyes meeting across the room, if only for a brief moment.

Elizabeth Bennet, Lizzie to those who could get away with it, scanned the room as she entered, taking in the elegant decorations and looking for no one in particular. Her right arm was linked with her favorite sister, her left carried a rather lovely bouquet of flowers from someone whose name she couldn't quite remember at the moment. Someone had given them to her after she'd left her car and on the way to this party. She supposed it was silly to be carrying them inside. She'd give them to the host, she decided, making a mental note to be sure to take the card out. A figure as nameless as the flower sender bumped into Jane, pushing both girls a couple of steps over. When Lizzie looked to the culprit, but found a woman's back. She set her mouth to tell this woman to watch her feet, and to keep in mind how much her own were worth, but a pair of smoldering eyes caught hers and her words died at her throat.

He stood out because of his stiff posture and unpleasant expression. He was not speaking to anyone, but it looked, perhaps, like a man was talking to him. He had dark, curly hair, falling casually onto his forehead with an elegance she'd seen very few men pull off. He was dressed impeccably in his simple black slacks, dark gray button down shirt and matching black tie. His shirt was crisp, and his black shoes were shiny. He had nice cheek bones, Lizzie noted, and a straight nose. She had always liked noses, but perhaps that was because she hated hers so much. He broke eye contact with her and turned to the man who had been talking to him. Lizzie felt herself blush as she realized that he had been watching her stare at him. She turned to Jane, and saw that her sister had been looking in that direction as well. Lizzie wondered if she knew the man.

"Jane?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes?" Jane didn't look at her.

"Who is that? That man with dark hair?"

Jane finally looked at Lizzie with a sly grin. "I'm not sure, but the guy talking to him is Charles Bingley."

"The actor?" Lizzie looked back at the two men speaking. The man on Tall, Dark, and Handsome's right was a few inches shorter than his friend. He had short, curly blond hair and a very nice smile. Had she been so engrossed in the taller, dark haired man that she hadn't noticed the semi-famous actor next to him? "Really?"

"I believe so. He's rather attractive, isn't he?" Jane asked quietly.

"Yes, his friend isn't too bad either," Lizzie muttered.

Before Jane could say more, a flash of brown and blue flew into Lizzie, knocking her breath of out and crushing the flowers against her. "Lizzie!" exclaimed the voice of Charlotte Lucas.

Lizzie hugged her back as best she could, what with one arm crushed to her chest and the other still linked with her sister's. "Charlotte! I've missed you!"

Charlotte let Lizzie go and did the same for Jane. "I'm so glad you both are here. Did you just come from your show?" She sounded out of breath as she brushed her straight brown hair out of her face. It was probably from running across the room to hug them.

Lizzie nodded, then the idea struck. She offered Charlotte the flowers. "For you."

Charlotte glared at Lizzie. "I don't want your crushed flowers. Go throw them away yourself, you lazy bum."

Jane laughed, but Lizzie said, "You crushed them! I was going to give them to the host."

"Don't be silly Lizzie. We already gave our gift. Those flowers aren't even appropriate for a Christmas party. You should have tossed them before we got in here." Jane said, unlinking her arms to take the flowers from Lizzie.

"But someone gave them to me! I feel bad throwing them away," Lizzie replied, holding the flowers tighter to her so Jane couldn't take them.

"Oh, but you don't feel bad giving them to someone else to throw away?" Charlotte scoffed.

"You crushed them though," Lizzie reminded her.

"Yes, so we should throw them away." Jane said patiently. "Come on, we look silly. The dark haired guy is looking at you."

Lizzie's suspicious eyes moved from Jane's face to over her shoulder, where the dark haired man was still conversing with his friend. "No, he's not!"

Her sister didn't reply, but took the flowers from Lizzie. "I know. I just needed to get these." Lizzie pouted, and Charlotte laughed. "I'll be back. I'm just going to find somewhere to throw these away." Since Lizzie continued to pout, Jane took out a daisy from the bouquet and handed it to her. "Here. This one's not crushed. You're so silly sometimes, Lizzie."

Lizzie smiled at Jane as she walked away. She broke off the stem and put the daisy in her hair.

"The dark haired man is looking at you now," Charlotte said.

Lizzie snorted. "What? Do you want to take the stem away? I can throw that out myself, Char."

"No, really, this time," Charlotte insisted.

Lizzie glanced over and saw that he was by himself now. His friend had left somewhere. When her eyes met his, he looked away.

"Do you know who he is?" Lizzie asked her friend.

"His name's William Darcy. He's Charles Bingley's best friend. I think he's British," Charlotte said importantly. "You would know this if you read gossip magazines, Lizzie."

"Charlotte, I only have precious moments to read, and I'm not going to waste them by reading gossip," Lizzie said.

"Well, the gossip page says a lot about you, so you would do well to read it," Charlotte grinned.

"What do they say?" Lizzie asked, a bit distractedly, as she was looking for Jane, and somewhere to throw away the stem.

"That you're the greatest thing since the pirouette," Charlotte replied.

Lizzie laughed. "I doubt they're that nice."

"They actually love you," Charlotte insisted. "They say you're the best thing to come out of School of American Ballet in years, and they only scarcely mention your mother. They mention Jane sometimes, usually just as 'Elizabeth Bennet has three sisters, one of which is the very sought after model: Jane Bennet.' Then they wonder how your sisters will turn out since the two of you are relatively famous in your respective fields."

"Should I be worried that you seem to know more about me than I do?"

Charlotte blushed. "Hey, I have a lot of free time."

"Wish I knew what that's like." Then she looked at Charlotte. "Have you gotten any word since you've redone your audition DVD?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Nothing yet. I'll never be an Elizabeth Bennet." Lizzie opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte cut her off. "No worries. I'll find something. Hey, I saw your mother earlier."

Lizzie recognized it as a desire to change the subject, so she asked, "Here?"

"Yeah. She didn't bring your sisters though," Charlotte said.

Lizzie felt a mixture of relief at her sisters not being present and apprehension at her mother being here. As much as she loved her family, they had a tendency to be a bit embarrassing when all together with the addition of alcohol. She was glad it was just her mother tonight. While scanning the room for them, Lizzie spotted Jane, who was talking to Charles Bingley. "Jane's talking to the movie star."

"Soap star," Charlotte corrected. "Jane always gets the good looking ones."

"Well, she is the model," Lizzie pointed out with a grin.

Charlotte grinned back. "Yes, that is true."

"Who else is here?" Lizzie asked, scanning the room again, growing bored of her sister and the soap star.

"A couple of other soap stars, a few models that Jane may know, a lot of dancers," Charlotte answered vaguely. "I think Ashlee Simpson might be here."

Lizzie scrunched her nose. "I hope she's not. Her music is awful."

"She won't be performing, Lizzie. It's just a Christmas party."

"I don't know if that will stop her from lip syncing to some poorly recorded cover of _Christmas Shoes_ though," Lizzie muttered.

Charlotte laughed, but then stopped abruptly. "Oh, no. Your mother's walking up to Jane and Charles."

"Quick, we have to distract her!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"How?"

"I'll go to her. You move Jane and Charles as far away as possible!" Lizzie said, already taking large steps in her mother's direction. "Mom!" she called.

Her mother looked in her direction and smiled. She made a detour to Lizzie. _Mission accomplished_, Lizzie thought to herself with relief. She looked toward Jane to see Charlotte talking to the couple. She smiled.

"Lizzie, dear. You did splendidly tonight," her mother told her, taking the stem out of her hand and giving it to a passing waiter to throw away.

"Thanks, Mom."

"But why did you wear the green dress? I thought we discussed you should go with black?"

Lizzie sighed. She looked in Jane's direction again to remind herself of why she was willingly subjecting herself to her mother's nagging. "I liked green better." She looked down at her short, emerald green party dress. The strapless dress hugged her chest and had layers and layers of black tulle under the skirt, making it puff out. She wore black peep-toe heels to match the lovely black trim of the dress.

"It makes you look so young, dear, and especially with that ridiculous flower in your hair."

"I am young, Mom," she reminded her mother.

"Well, I just think the black would have made more people take you serious-" Her mother's words were suddenly halted when something behind Lizzie caught her eye.

Lizzie turned her head to look. Jane was dancing with Charles Bingley.

"Oh, Jane does look lovely tonight," her mother said softly, lovingly.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "She's always lovely."

Her mother patted Lizzie's cheek. "Now, now, dear. No need to be jealous. I'm sure we'll find you someone almost as wonderful as Charles Bingley."

Lizzie didn't bother to tell her mom that she was simply stating a fact, that she wasn't jealous, and that her mother should leave them alone. That would have just been a waste of words. She decided that now that Jane was on the dance floor, her mother wouldn't be able to disturb her there. So Lizzie left to find Charlotte.

She didn't find Charlotte right away, but she did find Charles' friend. He was speaking with a very pretty curly haired redhead, who was smiling adoringly at him. He seemed oblivious to it, or perhaps he was ignoring it. He still had the unpleasant expression on his face. Lizzie considered going over and talking to him, but before she could work up the nerve, Charlotte found her.

**December 23; 1:12AM**  
The line to the bathroom was insanely long, and Lizzie didn't even really have to go. She sighed as she craned her neck to the left, counting how many girls were holding her back from the bathroom. Seven, not including Charlotte, who was waiting just as impatiently in front of her. As Lizzie stood there contemplating the pros and cons of waiting in line with her friend, her ears picked a name from a voice a few feet behind her.

"Really, Charles, there is no need for this. Go back to your dance partner," a deep, British voice said.

Charlotte turned around at the sound of the voice as well. The voice belonged to the very handsome William Darcy. Lizzie turned her head back to face the front of the line and meet Charlotte's eyes.

"I would just feel so much better if you would dance too. It's a party. Have some fun," Charles Bingley replied.

William Darcy scoffed. "Fun and dancing do not mean the same thing in my book, Charles. Besides, you're dancing with the only person worth dancing with."

"She is the most beautiful creature I've ever beheld," Charles said almost dreamily.

Lizzie smiled. She liked Charles Bingley already.

"Yes, yes, go back to her, and try not to drool, alright?" was William Darcy's reply.

"You should dance with her sister, Elizabeth. She's quite lovely, and she's a dancer."

"Every twenty-something year old girl in New York is either an aspiring dancer or actress or musician, and I have no patience for it, Charles. While Elizabeth Bennet may be tolerable, she's certainly not pretty enough to tempt me."

Lizzie frowned when she felt Charlotte's hand on her arm, tugging her closer to the bathroom as the line had moved. Charlotte never let go, and Lizzie wondered if it was because she was worried Lizzie would do or say something irrational to William Darcy. Lizzie very much wanted to give the guy a good punch in the face and kick in the crotch and tell him she was a dancer, damn it. Not an _aspiring_ dancer. She _was_ a dancer. A damn good one. But she decided it would cause a scene and he probably wasn't worth it anyway. She sighed. "What an ass," she muttered.

"Be thankful, Lizzie. If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him."

Lizzie smiled. "Yes, and I can't imagine what I'd have to say to that pompous man. He'd probably just stare at me awkwardly in between giving rude comments about New York's twenty-something year old girls."

Charlotte smiled back, visibly relaxed. She must have been worried. Charlotte continued talking to her about inane topics to keep her mind off of the rude things Mr. Darcy had said about her. Lizzie appreciated it, but she was glad when it was finally their turn in the bathroom.

As she waited outside of Charlotte's stall, Lizzie studied herself in the mirror critically. Her makeup and hair were not as flawless as they had been when she'd left her dressing room, but that was to be expected. Her dark brown hair was in an elegant bun atop her head, with a few stray strands falling on her face and neck. The flower she'd put in it earlier had moved a bit, and when Lizzie tried to adjust it, she pulled a few more strands of hair out of place. She decided to just take the flower out completely. Again, she pulled more strands of hair out of place. Lizzie sighed and cursed her inability to keep a hairstyle for more than a few hours. Her light eye makeup had faded a bit, but still accented her hazel eyes nicely. Her lipstick was practically gone, and Lizzie knew she could blame the drink she'd had a few minutes ago for that. She inspected her teeth, perfectly straight, nothing in them. She found nothing wrong with her appearance, and especially nothing that would warrant someone to call her simply tolerable. She'd dare say she was a bit more than tolerable.

Maybe it was the fact that she had a dancer's body. Most men liked women with "curves" it seemed. She sighed again. Curves would slow her down. Curves meant weakness and a lack of self-control in the ballet world. Curves meant not being the star of the Christmas ballet. Curves were simply not an option. She'd have to deal with her less than full chest, slender frame, and constantly bloody toes. It was the cost of being a ballet dancer. A cost she willingly and happily paid everyday so that she could do what she loved every night.

**December 23; 1:29AM**  
"Jane is dancing with Charles Bingley still!" Charlotte's voice exclaimed.

Lizzie found her sister among the crowd easily. She was the only tall, gorgeous blonde in a floor length deep violet gown dancing with another tall, gorgeous blonde.

"How cute," Lizzie smiled, then she listened indulgently as her friend talked about how adorable Charles and Jane's children would be.

"They're coming our way," Charlotte informed her.

"Lizzie!" Jane's voice called.

Lizzie turned and smiled at her sister. "Hello, favorite sister."

Jane blushed, as always, at the title. Then she turned to Charles, who was beside her, and said, "This is Charles, Lizzie. Charlie, this is my sister, Elizabeth."

"Favorite sister," Lizzie corrected as Charles offered his hand. Lizzie took it with a grin. "Hi Charles."

"Charlie," he corrected her with a smile. "Nobody calls me Charles unless they're upset with me."

"Charlie," Lizzie tried.

He smiled and Jane smiled, and Lizzie smiled because of the two of them.

"Jane tells me you're a dancer," Charles said.

"Yes," Lizzie replied. "I'm apart of the New York City Ballet Company."

"She's the star in this year's _Nutcracker_," Charlotte added.

"Who is?" an unfamiliar female voice asked.

"Oh! This is my sister, Caroline Bingley and my good friend William Darcy," Charles said, introducing the couple that had just walked up to the group. "This is Jane, Elizabeth, and Charlotte."

"Pleased to meet you," William Darcy said stiffly in his British accent, looking quite like he'd dry-swallowed a rather large pill. Lizzie tried not to scowl at him, remembering his comments about her. She decided she would have liked his voice very much had he not used it to be so rude.

"Who is the star in _The Nutcracker_?" Caroline Bingley asked.

"That'd be me," Lizzie said, smiling.

"Really? You're the famous _Elizabeth Bennet_?"

Lizzie nodded.

Caroline looked her up and down, then said, "I didn't recognize you without the costumes and makeup."

"No one ever recognizes me under all that makeup they put on me," Lizzie replied. "Have you seen the show?"

"Yes. It was alright, I suppose," Caroline sniffed.

"I enjoyed it quite a bit," Charlie provided.

Lizzie smiled at him again, wondering if Jane had finally met someone nicer than she was. "Thank you."

"I was a ballet dancer for seven years of my life. Did you have formal training?" Caroline asked.

Lizzie wondered if Caroline knew there was no way one would be able to get into any company without some years of formal training. "I was accepted into the School of American Ballet when I was ten," Lizzie said, as humbly as possible. Nobody liked a bragger, after all. "What about you?"

Caroline's eyes widened, and Lizzie fought to keep the smirk off her face. She spared a glance at William Darcy to gauge his reaction, but his face was unreadable. "I didn't have any formal training in the form of a ballet school. I just did a few hours a day with a private instructor. At the age of sixteen, I was offered a modeling contract and decided that was much more rewarding."

Lizzie nodded politely. "Do you work with Jane?"

"No, I've actually never met her until just now." Caroline's studious blue eyes turned to Jane. "How long have you been modeling?"

"Since as long as I can remember," Jane said, honestly.

"Since you were two," Charlotte supplied. When eyes turned to her, she shrugged. "I'm the only ordinary one here, it seems."

"You're not ordinary, Charlotte. What is it that you do, Mr. Darcy?" Lizzie asked.

"I'm a surgical resident at Austen Memorial Hospital," he replied.

"I really am the only ordinary one," Charlotte said, jokingly.

"Oh, hush, Charlotte," Jane said. "You know good and well you're a wonderful dancer."

"Oh, are you a dancer as well?" Charlie asked her.

She nodded. "I was apart of a small company for a while. That's how Lizzie and I met."

"Anything I might have seen?" Charlie asked, seeming to be genuinely interested.

Charlotte blushed. "Well, I was never a principal dancer."

Lizzie saw Mr. Darcy's eyebrows raise and Caroline's hand move to her mouth to cover a smirk.

"Jane! There you are, dear!" a very familiar female voice said.

Lizzie suppressed a groan. She met Charlotte's eyes briefly and wondered what to do now.

"Hi, Mom," Jane said kindly. "Have you met everyone?"

"Oh yes, dear. I know who everyone is." Her mother smiled eagerly at Charlie, who looked a bit uncomfortable, but smiled back. Lizzie wondered if she had seen him not smile yet. All she had seen were smiles with teeth, smiles without teeth, polite smiles, and now an uncomfortable smile.

"Oh, Charlie. I love this song. Can I cash in that dance you owe me?" Charlotte asked abruptly.

"Uh," Charlie looked at Jane, who smiled and nodded. "Sure." He offered her his arm and together they made their way to the dance floor.

When she was out of earshot, her mother started. "Such a nice girl. Too bad she's so plain."

"Mother!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"Oh, Lizzie, I know you love her, and that blinds you from her looks, but really. She lacks Jane's beauty and your ballet feet. I've no idea why she doesn't just look for something else she's actually good at."

Caroline didn't bother hiding her smirk this time.

"Charlotte is a perfectly fine dancer, Mom!" Lizzie exclaimed, defending her friend.

"You know very well she's not as good as you, Lizzie. There's a reason she was never a principle dancer, a reason she was let go from her company, and a reason she can't find another job."

"Mom!" Lizzie did not like the way Caroline was smirking at her mother, and she certainly didn't appreciate her mother airing out Charlotte's business to people they barely knew.

"Mom, really," Jane said quietly.

"Oh, Jane. It's so easy for you to think well of others. That's why everyone loves you," her mom said. Jane blushed modestly. "You've had boys knocking at your door since you hit puberty!" Jane's blush deepened. "There was one guy who even insisted writing her songs!" her mother continued to the group.

"What kind of songs?" Caroline asked, looking as if Christmas had come early.

Her mother mistook Caroline's expression for genuine interest. "Oh, your usual love s-"

"Songs that killed any chance he had," Lizzie broke in. "Honestly, remember, Jane? His poor lyrics?"

Jane simply nodded, face still rather red.

"Did the songs not make her affection grow? I always believed women loved being sung to," said Mr. Darcy.

"Women loved being sung to by men they already love. If it's just some creep outside her window with lyrics like 'don't be so cold, we were made from the same mold,' I'm afraid it simply eats away any affection poor Janie would have had for him," Lizzie answered.

Mr. Darcy now had a curious expression on his face, but said no more.

**December 23; 2:46AM**  
"That was nice, wasn't it?" Jane asked, as they drove to Lizzie's apartment.

"You mean Charles Bingley was nice? Yes, I would say so."

Jane smiled. "I do like him. I wish I had given him my number."

"Don't worry, Jane. You're both famous people with agents. I'm sure he'll get a hold of you."

"Oh, but what if he wasn't really interested in me?"

"Believe me Jane, he was. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon," Lizzie said honestly.

"I can't believe his friend though. Are you sure you heard him right?"

The switch to William Darcy made Lizzie a little angry still. "I'm sure."

"Charlie thinks so highly of him," Jane said softly.

"Well, I don't."

"I bet his opinion of you changed when he saw you up close and when he found out you're a successful dancer," Jane tried.

"It's no matter, Jane. I'll probably never see him again."

"I hope I see Charlie again," Jane admitted quietly. "Do you really think he'll call me, Lizzie? Even though he doesn't have my number?"

Lizzie smiled at her sister. "I'm sure, Jane. I'm an excellent judge of people. And Charlie, despite the horrid company he keeps, is a good guy, and will definitely contact you somehow."


	2. Be My Mirror, My Sword, And Shield

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Two: Be My Mirror, My Sword, And Shield**

**---**

**December 27; 11:49PM**  
"Lizzie, I can't believe I let you talk me into going out in this storm," Jane said for the twenty-ninth time since they'd left.

"But wasn't the portabella mushroom sandwich just heavenly, Janie? Don't deny it. It was way better than anything we could have made at my apartment," Lizzie replied, messing with the zipper of her boots. "The blizzard of the century is coming later tonight, and you would have been so upset if we hadn't been able to eat at my favorite twenty-four hour restaurant before being snowed in for Lord knows how long."

"We should have gone to the grocery store instead of a restaurant way out in the country, Lizzie," Jane scolded, concentrating on the road. She didn't notice when Lizzie changed her Coldplay CD out for Britney Spears.

"Don't worry, Janie. I've got tons of food at the apartment. Just nothing as good as that portabella sandwich. And it wasn't out in the country."

"It's already started snowing. I can barely see the road," Jane mumbled.

"You're such a worry wart, Janie. We'll be fine. We might not get home for another two hours because you're driving like a grandma, but we'll be fine," Lizzie joked.

"I'm afraid to drive any faster, Liz."

Lizzie glanced at her sister and realized she was really worried. "We'll be fine, Janie. Drive however you want."

"I feel like if I don't drive fast enough, we'll be stuck in the blizzard, but if I drive too fast, we'll skid along the road." She made a face, and opened her mouth as if to say more. Lizzie waited politely. "Lizzie, put my Coldplay CD back in. I can't drive with this shit on."

Lizzie laughed. Her sister rarely cursed, so it was funny that she did it to describe Britney's music. "But she's made such a comeback, Janie!"

"I can't drive when I'm listening to her spell the eff word, Lizzie. Honestly, what's with singers spelling things out anyway?"

"Who else spells things?"

"Fergie," Jane replied.

"Ew. I don't like her. She looks like a man, don't you think?"

"Lizzie, stop trying to distract me with your celebrity gossip, and put my Coldplay CD back in."

"Fine, fine." Lizzie changed the CD again. She was bored now. Without Britney to dance and sing to, she had nothing to do except watch Jane drive. Her sister had both hands on the wheel, and her eyes fixed determinedly on the road. Lizzie looked out the windshield and saw that Jane was right; it was rather difficult to see anything. It was mostly darkness and snow. They were on a very deserted highway road. They were probably the only car. Nobody else wanted to brave the weather this late at night, probably. She wondered if they would close roads soon. The windshield wipers were on full speed, much to Lizzie's annoyance. Lizzie always believed this made people look like they were spazzing out. Even with the wipers on spaz speed, little flakes of snow were making their way onto their windshield, if only for a few moments before the wipers took them off, sometimes leaving streaks.

Lizzie's boots were getting uncomfortable. "I don't see why I had to wear these boots, Jane," she said as she began to unzip her snow boots.

"Because it's snowing?" Jane said sarcastically.

"Well, you're not wearing any," Lizzie replied, moving her left leg underneath her to sit on while she undid the ties on her right boot.

"I left mine at Mom's."

"Conveniently," Lizzie muttered.

"Not really," Jane replied. "My Chucks got wet when we walked into the restaurant. Wish I had boots."

"Oh, I would have traded you," Lizzie replied.

"It's fine, Lizzie. I hate the heel on yours. Plus, I'm wearing two layers of socks."

Lizzie opened her mouth to tell her sister that was weird, and she should have just bought thicker socks, but Jane's phone rang.

Jane jumped and let out a curse under her breath. "Get that for me, would you?"

Lizzie looked at the phone and made a face. "It's Mom. You talk to her. "

"I can't, Lizzie. I have to drive."

"Here, I'll put her on speakerphone." Before Jane could protest, she pressed the speakerphone button. "Hey, Mom."

"Lizzie?" her mother's voice said, confused. "I thought I was calling Jane."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I'm right here, Mom," Jane said.

"Oh, Jane. I was just calling to see if that Charles Bingley had contacted you yet. I know at Christmas you said he hadn't."

"He did, actually. This morning, he called me and asked me to go to a New Year's Eve party with him," Jane answered. Even in the dim car, Lizzie could see a blush creep on her sister's face.

"That's wonderful, Janie! You two make such an adorable couple!" her mother squealed. "What will you be wearing?"

"I'm not really sure yet, Mom."

"Oh, well, hopefully this horrible blizzard clears up by then. I'd hate for you to miss your chance with Charles Bingley just because of this weather!"

"I'm sure he'd reschedule, Mom," Lizzie said, back to untying her boot. Why did she insist on triple knotting everything?

"Yes, but that would be so much trouble!"

"Is that all, Mom?" Lizzie asked, annoyed. "Jane's driving, and you know how she is about talking and driving." She pulled off her right boot finally, and rolled her pant leg up to her knee so that she could adjust her knee high socks that had fallen.

"Oh! In this weather? Okay, I suppose I should let you go. Be careful driving, Janie! I love you!"

"I love you too, Mom," Jane answered, taking one hand off the wheel to push hair out of her face, a habit she did when she was stressed.

Lizzie saw that she had her sock inside out, so she took it off. When Jane didn't reach to hang up the phone, Lizzie did. She closed it without another word to her mother. She tried to put it back in its place in the cup holder, but it slipped through her fingers, and fell onto Jane's lap. "Oops!"

Jane jumped at the contact, and the phone fell to her feet. "Fuck," Jane muttered. "Can you get that, Lizzie?"

"Why don't we just wait till we get out and get it?" Lizzie asked, afraid of further distracting Jane.

"Because I don't want-"

The phone rang again.

The next few seconds were a blur to Lizzie. Her sister had been following the curve of the road, but the noise shocked Jane, already so jumpy, so much that her foot slammed on the gas, thinking it was the brakes. She then tried to brake. She took her eyes off the road for a moment, because instinct made her look at her feet to find the phone, before realizing her eyes should be on the road, sending her into full panic mode.

Lizzie watched in horror as her sister took her hands completely off the wheel to cover her mouth in shock, a habit Lizzie had seen a million times, and thought harmless until this very second. The car skidded off the road and began its furious head-on path into a highway light pole and the barrier before Jane finally thought to put her hands back on the wheel. A few yells from both girls, Lizzie shut her eyes tightly, willing this to be a bad dream. She felt the car jerk to the left as Jane tried to navigate it from the light pole. Then she heard a crash and the sound of crunched metal hitting concrete. Both airbags opened with a pop, and Lizzie's head slammed against the right side, then jerked back as the car finally stopped. Lizzie felt hard impact on her right side, then hot pain on her right leg.

In the heavy silence, Lizzie wondered, not why she didn't have her side airbags on or what they were going to do now. Instead, she wondered if it had been her mother than had called them again. It would be like her to do something like that, after all.

**December 28; 12:09AM**  
Lizzie opened her eyes to a cracked windshield. "Janie?" she asked quietly. She got a groan in response. Lizzie sighed in relief. Her sister was alive. Lizzie turned her neck to the right to see the damage. Her side of the car had crashed into the barrier of the highway and most of the metal of the car was smashed in. There was broken glass everywhere, and she could feel cold air coming from all the cracks and dents and imperfections of the car. Besides her leg, which felt stuck, she seemed fine. Her right arm and shoulder hurt from being pushed by the frame of the car when it crashed, and her head was in a bit of pain. She guessed that the whole right half of her body was a bit bruised. Nothing to worry about. Except maybe the leg. Lizzie waited for the front airbag to deflate completely, then unbuckled her seatbelt with her left arm to inspect the damage.

She almost screamed when she saw it. The frame of the car had been pushed in, creating a tight and painful cocoon around her right leg. In the dim light of the lonely highway, Lizzie could see bright red blood coating her leg and the metal and inner carpeting of the car, but she couldn't tell where on her leg it was coming from. Lizzie tried to move her leg, but couldn't do it without feeling like a knife was slicing through it. Her hair felt gritty, and when she touched the right side of her head, her hand came back wet. A closer look made her realize she was bleeding from her head, and the gritty feeling was broken glass in her hair.

Lizzie felt panic rising in her chest. She looked over at Jane, and saw her sister seemed to be fine, thank goodness.

"Oh, my god, Lizzie!" Jane exclaimed.

Only when Jane turned to face her, could Lizzie see that Jane was not fine. The left side of Jane's head and face seemed to be as bloody as the right side of hers. Lizzie guessed it was when they slammed into the side, their heads were jerked right, then back. Lizzie's had slammed into her window, then pulled back to nothing. Jane had been pulled into nothing first, then slammed into her window on the left.

Lizzie quickly opened her glove compartment for the first aid kit and flashlight. They cleaned each other's wounds as best they could. Lizzie found she couldn't do much, both because Jane wouldn't let her, and also because her right arm hurt so much when moved.

They found the glass from the window had not penetrated skin thanks to Lizzie's layers of clothing and scarf.

Surprisingly, Lizzie's head wound was in better condition than Jane's. However, the rest of Lizzie was not. Her right arm and shoulder hurt so much she didn't want to move them, and her leg was still stuck. Lizzie scooted to the left, in between the seats, hoping a new angle would help, but it didn't. She guessed there was a piece of jagged metal or something against her foot and calf, causing the knife like feeling.

"What should I do, Jane?" she asked quietly.

Jane bit her lip. "We-we could wait for help. I'll look for my phone." There was a pregnant pause as she groped around under the seat of the car with a flashlight. Finally Jane found her phone in two pieces and completely useless. "Do you have yours?"

Lizzie shook her head. "I left it on the counter. Remember?"

"You wanted to go back for it," Jane whispered tearfully. "I said there was no need because I had mine."

"Jane, no."

"I'm so sorry, Lizzie. This is all my fault." A tear fell from her sister's beautiful face.

"No, Jane. It's. It's not. This isn't anyone's fault, okay?"

"It's mine, Lizzie! I should have-have-I should have been-I should paid attention…" More tears were falling.

"Jane. We can't worry about that now, okay? We have to figure out what to do." Lizzie closed her eyes and swallowed the panic that was building. "We can either wait until someone finds us or we can try to find help." Her eyes were beginning to burn with tears, either from the smell of the airbags, watching her sister's tears fall, or the almost unbearable pain in her right leg when she shifted, she wasn't sure.

"It's going to get cold," Jane said.

Lizzie nodded. "We'll be cold either way. If we stay here, or if we get out and walk."

"Walk?" Jane asked.

She nodded again. "I think I know where we are, Janie. I can see the exit sign. It's a few miles from a neighborhood."

"Lizzie, you're injured. You can't walk. You can't even get your leg out of there."

"We're both injured, Jane. And we can't stay here. You're not supposed to stay in the car after a crash, the fumes or something. And who knows how long it'll take for someone to find us? If we walk quickly, it'll take an hour at most to find the neighborhood. I'm almost sure it's right off this exit. We're in suburb land. There's bound to be houses. Charlotte had a boyfriend that used to live here. His parents paid for the house. It's a super rich neighborhood."

"I-I don't know, Lizzie," Jane said.

However, Lizzie had already made up her mind. She took off her jacket and grabbed another sweater Jane had found from the back of her car to put on, ignoring the pain. She put her jacket back on after that. She found some earmuffs in the glove compartment and put those on too, minding her head injury. She handed Jane a hat. "We have to go, Jane. There's no telling how long we'll have to wait. If it keeps snowing like this, we'll be stuck in this car and won't have a choice."

"But how will you walk, Lizzie?" Jane asked.

"I can do it, Jane," Lizzie answered, fighting to keep the uncertainty from her voice. It was important to convince Jane to leave the car and find help. There was no way anyone would find them here until morning, and Lizzie knew neither of them could wait that long.

"How can you walk when your leg is stuck?"

"I'm going to just yank it out," Lizzie said.

"What?"

Lizzie nodded. "Don't worry, Jane. It'll be quick."

"Lizzie. No! Who knows how much damage you'll do?"

"We'll freeze to death if we stay here, Jane."

"Let me go get help, then Lizzie!" Jane exclaimed.

"So you can freeze out there, and I can freeze stuck in this car? No. We're in this together, Jane. Just like always." Lizzie wiggled her leg a bit, testing it. The pain was definitely coming from the right side where the car impacted. Something sharp was in her upper calf, she decided. She tried lifting her leg up again, and felt the sharp metal scrape through her leg, drawing more warm blood. She knew she was bleeding freely because it was the only warm thing she could feel, if only for a moment.

"Talk to me, Janie," Lizzie said, hoping to distract her sister and herself.

"I won't let you do this, Lizzie," Jane replied firmly.

Lizzie pulled her leg up higher this time, closing her eyes against the pain. It felt like someone had stabbed her and was twisting the knife. Her leg shook a bit, and she felt the metal go in deeper, making her gasp.

"Lizzie!" Jane exclaimed again. "I forbid you to do this!"

"You're not Mom, Jane!" Lizzie tried again, this time faster. She could feel the metal on her ankle now. She was close. She tried to move her leg so that the metal would slice her foot in the least harmful way possible. Why in God's name had she taken off her boot?

"Mom wouldn't be able to stop you, but I can, Lizzie. I won't let you do this."

One final yank of her leg and a few white stars behind her eyes later, Lizzie's foot was free. "Too late," Lizzie whispered. "Quick, do something with it."

Jane let out a tiny scream, before grabbing gauze and bandages to wrap Lizzie's wound. No matter how much she used, blood still continued to flow. Finally, Jane took off her scarf to wrap over the bandages.

Finally, Jane nodded. Then handed her the to-go box from the restaurant. "Here."

"What? Jane? I don't want food right now! I need more sweaters because it's going to be unbearably cold!"

"Lizzie, it's the cake I couldn't finish. Eat some of it while I look for more clothes. I'm worried about how much blood you're losing."

Lizzie glared at her sister, then the cake. She had resisted getting dessert while at the restaurant to avoid any winter weight that might sneak up on her, but now here was some cake staring her in the face, and Jane had insisted, hadn't she? Lizzie took a bite of it without really tasting it. She watched Jane search around her car for more clothes.

"Are we going to walk?" Lizzie asked quietly.

"Well, we can't stay here. You're bleeding too much. Besides, if we stayed here, that would mean you yanked your foot out for nothing."

There wasn't much in the car. Just the sweater Lizzie had already put on and an old blanket. They also found some extra socks and ballet shoes. "Do you have any other shoes, Lizzie? You can't put on your boot."

Lizzie swallowed her last bit of cake and replied, "I'll just wear a ballet shoe and put as many socks over it as possible."

"No, Lizzie. Wear my Chucks. I'll wear your boots."

"No, Jane. It doesn't matter. It'll be the same. Plus, you hate the heel of these." Then she picked up some duct tape she found under her seat. "Tape your shoes up so snow doesn't get through them, Jane."

As Jane did as she was told, Lizzie stuffed her right foot into her ballet shoe, ignoring the way blood from her foot filled it up. She put two pairs of socks on over the shoe, almost smiling at the irony of it all. She had been making fun of Jane for wearing two pairs of socks earlier.

She saw her sister glance worriedly at her leg. "Are you sure you don't have any shoes in your trunk, Lizzie?"

"I'm sure. I cleaned out my trunk two days ago to fit the presents, remember?" She took the duct tape from Jane and taped up her own "shoe." Lizzie put her original knee high sock over it after that, trying, again, not to pay attention to how the blood had seeped through a little bit of the scarf they'd wrapped around it. "Grab our wallets and put them in your jacket pocket. I don't think we should carry anything other than that, do you?"

Jane shook her head and followed her directions. Lizzie racked her mind for anything else she should remember, but couldn't think of anything. She looked around the car, and realized a problem. She'd have to climb over the seat to come out through Jane's door. Hers was smashed in and she had no chance of opening it. That meant a lot more movement for her leg than she had originally anticipated. She met Jane's eyes and saw that her sister had come to the same conclusion. Before Jane could make more protests, Lizzie said, "Let's go, Jane."

**December 28; 1:47AM**  
There were a lot of things Elizabeth Bennet wasn't sure about. She often was unsure about her career because although she was a great dancer, she knew she wasn't going to be able to do it forever. She was often unsure about how long she'd be able to it and what would happen when her time ran out. Strangely, that wasn't on her mind as each step in the blistering cold shot searing hot pain through her right foot and leg. Lizzie guessed she hadn't positioned her foot right, because she felt the cut in the center of the right side of her foot. Right now, she was unsure of how long they'd been walking and how Jane was, because Lizzie could hear her teeth chattering, and her ragged breath. Lizzie was unsure of where they were, but she wasn't going to tell Jane that. She had thought they'd see houses by now, but wondered if maybe they were walking in circles. She unsure of how she even got here in the first place. Getting out of the car had been painful to say the least. Walking was even worse.

The snow was ankle deep, making walking difficult. They were bundled together under the old blanket, Lizzie using Jane as a crutch to walk. She could feel ice in her hair and noticed Jane wasn't as strong as she had been when they'd started their journey. Then again, neither was she. Lizzie honestly wasn't sure how much more of this pain she could take, but she continued for Jane.

"Lizzie," Jane said so quietly that Lizzie could barely even hear her over the wind.

"Yes, Jane?"

"Is that house?"

Lizzie looked in the direction of her sister's shaking, gloved hand. It was! There was only a porch light, but it might as well have been a shining beacon. "It is, Jane!"

The two sisters walked as quickly as they could to the lone house. Lizzie wondered briefly if this was a trick of her imagination, but then reminded herself that Jane had seen it first. Finally, they reached the unlocked gate.

Not questioning it, they walked on. The few steps they took to reach the front door were the best steps Lizzie could ever recall taking. She wasted no time banging on the door when the reached it.

No one answered for a few minutes.

Lizzie banged again. Jane was slouching on her shoulder. Lizzie was worried, so she banged again, this time longer.

**December 28; 2:23AM**  
"What the bloody hell do you want?"

Lizzie recognized the angry, British voice before she even registered the face. For a moment, shock coursed through her, and she didn't feel the cold or the pain. "Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise, not expecting this at all. Her eyes took in his disheveled appearance – hair mused, white long sleeve shirt, plaid pajama pants, eyes slightly red – very unlike how she remembered him.

"Well? It's 2:30 in the bloody morning!" Will Darcy growled, putting a stop to her critical examination.

"My sister and I were in a car crash," she said, surprised at how calm her voice was. It was as if her teeth had stopped chattering for this occasion. "She took a blow to the head and she's barely conscious. I'm very sorry that the first house we found was yours, believe me," Lizzie paused to give him a meaningful glare. "But we really do need help. I understand it's the middle of the night, but this is the first house we've seen and your light was on and I'm not sure if I can get her to-" she stopped abruptly and contemplated. "If you won't help, we'll be on our way."

The door opened a crack wider. He seemed to finally realize that she wasn't just knocking on his door for fun. Lizzie watched his eyes quickly skim her appearance, lingering briefly on her blood soaked leg, before they moved to Jane. His eyes widened, and, without a word, he opened the door completely, and helped her inside.

"What happened?" he demanded, helping her lead Jane to the couch by the fire. Jane's teeth were still chattering as she removed the bloody hat.

"What's going on?" another voice called, sleepily.

Lizzie looked and recognized Charlie Bingley. She watched as his eyes became more focused, and saw them widen at the state of the two of them.

"They're both injured from a car crash," Will answered, helping Jane sit.

"Do you have extra clothes?" Lizzie asked.

"What?" He seemed confused by her question.

"Her clothes are wet and frozen from the snow. We need to change her."

His eyes went back to her leg, and he asked, "What about you?"

"I'll get some clothes from Caroline's room," Charlie said, his voice already farther away as he walked.

"Jane hit her head on her window. I saw the window was kind of cracked too. So it was probably really hard. She's been really weak." Lizzie told Will. The numbness from the snow was subsiding, and the ice and snow on her was melting, adding to the wetness already making her cold. "She-she-" Lizzie had to bite her lip to stop her teeth from chattering uncontrollably. She tried again, but couldn't get another word out because of the chattering.

Will stared at her, waiting impatiently for a reply. He gave her a once over, taking in her blue lips and shaking hands. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Will proclaimed. "Charlie! Hurry up!" Will began stripping the outer layers of Jane's clothing, and before Lizzie could defend her sister's honor, Will said, "Will you please take off all that clothing? It's either frozen or wet, and neither of those options are good."

With a bit of difficulty – her hands were shaking and her right side still hurt – Lizzie removed her jacket. She heard the thin layer of ice that had formed on it crack. She took off her two sweaters and gloves as well, leaving her in a simple, blue long sleeve shirt. She then kneeled and began to help him with Jane, whose eyes were dangerously unfocused. Lizzie took off the duct tape and shoes, which proved to be a bit of a challenge, as her hands were shaking still, and Jane seemed to also have a habit of triple knotting. She noticed Will's eyes continued to stray between Jane's bloody head and Lizzie's bloody leg. She wasn't sure what to do about that. Maybe she should tell him to stop staring.

"I brought you some clothes, I'm not sure how well they'll fit," Charlie called, coming back with two handfuls of clothes. "They're Caroline's. I also got some towels."

"It's f-f-fine," Lizzie said, getting up to grab them, wincing as she did so. Will and Charlie both noticed, but she ignored them. "Bathroom?"

"It's right over-" Charlie started, but Will interrupted.

"We'll both leave, and you can change in here." He got up before she could say anything, taking Charlie out of the room with him.

Lizzie didn't waste time thinking about why he had done that. She went back to Jane. "Janie?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" Jane answered, dazed.

"We've got to change, okay? We're all wet."

"It's just my legs that are wet, Lizzie," Jane said softly, slurring slightly. "Shouldn't have left my boots at Mom's."

Lizzie unbuttoned Jane's pants, dried her off a bit, and helped her sister put on the new clothes without a word. Jane wasn't much help, but Lizzie managed to get her dressed just fine. "You've got to stay awake, Janie," Lizzie muttered, watching her sister worriedly.

"I know, Lizzie," Jane whispered.

Lizzie took her shirt off first, putting on the new one on quickly. She was so cold that she put on another shirt over it. Next, she took off the layers of socks, duct tape, and the ballet shoe off of her right foot and unzipped and unknotted the boot on her left leg. She then unbuttoned her jeans and began the slow and painful process of peeling them off her body. After managing to get the left leg off, she sat, almost comically, with just one pant leg on, and a sweater wrapped around it. She unwrapped the bloody sweater, then decided to just pull the pant leg off quickly, like a Band-Aid. She let out a cry of pain and shock, not expecting the contact on fabric on her cut. This made her realize the scarf that Jane had wrapped around her leg under the her pants had moved. Lizzie grabbed the old shirt she'd been wearing, which had been slightly dry, thank goodness, and wrapped it tightly around her cut, over the deep red bandages, tying the sleeves together tightly. She watched with worry as the material turned red almost immediately. Not wanting to get blood on Caroline's clothes, she grabbed her clean sweater and did the same thing as the shirt, before putting on Caroline's lounge pants.

Realizing that clothes and shoes and socks were scattered, Lizzie got up to tidy up their mess, glancing over at Jane, who was looking at the fire.

"You hanging in there, Jane?"

As Lizzie watched her sister nod, she saw a movement in the corner of her eye. Charlie and Will were back. She thought maybe she should be indignant because she could have still been changing, but thought better of it.

"I can take a look at your injuries, if you'd like," Will said politely.

Lizzie nodded. He walked to her, but she said, "You should look at Jane first. I think she has a concussion."

"I don't have a concussion Lizzie. I think he should look at that cut on your leg," Jane said.

"It's fine. Take care of Jane first," Lizzie said stubbornly. It was just a cut, and Jane's dazed behavior was starting to worry her.

"Your leg is worse."

"It's just a leg, it's not my head," Lizzie reasoned.

"Your head is injured too! Your leg might as well be your head or your face! You're a dancer!" Jane exclaimed.

"It's not my foot, Jane."

Charlie and Will looked at each other. Then, after some hesitation, Will moved to look at Jane, much to Lizzie's relief.

He shone light into her eyes and asked her a few questions, while cleaning the cut carefully. He was relieved to see the cut wasn't very deep, and most of the blood was just dry. It wasn't even bleeding anymore. Finally, he said, "You don't seem to be in any danger of a concussion. So that's good. I think I got as much of the glass pieces out as possible. Charlie can go help you wash the blood out of your hair now. When you come back, I can bandage you up."

Jane nodded, and took Charlie's hand that he offered her. On the way to the bathroom, Jane turned to look at Lizzie.

Lizzie gave an encouraging smile so that Jane wouldn't feel worse.

She felt something tugging her pant leg, and realized it was Mr. Darcy. Lizzie sighed. There was no point on protesting. Jane would have a fit if she didn't let him look at it. She watched his face shift with different expressions as he unwrapped her leg – concentration, shock, sympathy (this was when she gave a small whimper), and finally alarm.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"Car crash," Lizzie answered simply, watching him take out cleaning alcohol with trepidation. "Impact was on my side. My boot was off. There was some metal that sliced it. My foot was stuck, so I just yanked it out really quick, which made the cut bigger, I guess." Will continued to stare at her leg in alarm. Lizzie sighed again, feeling uncomfortable. "Just clean it and bandage it like you did with Jane."

"You need stitches, and the alcohol is going to sting."

"I don't want stitches," Lizzie said, watching him dab her cut with an alcohol soaked towel. It stung like a bitch, but she kept her face blank, determined not to give him the satisfaction of being right.

He looked up at her face, "You have to let me stitch this."

"You didn't make Jane get stitches!" she exclaimed, almost petulantly.

"She doesn't need them," he replied, turning back to her leg.

"Neither do I." He couldn't just sew her up without her permission. Jane wouldn't make her. Lizzie stared at the cut. The cut was ugly. Her perfectly perfect ballerina's calf had a deep, red, imperfect gash in it. It went from a few inches below her knee all the way down to her foot. She couldn't see exactly how deep it was. Lizzie finally allowed herself to think about what this would mean. How long did it take for cuts to heal? She'd be out of any spring shows for sure. Perhaps she'd be able to do the summer shows, the fall shows, for sure, even if she couldn't be a star, she was sure she'd be able to perform by then. There was no way they'd fire her because of this, right? She'd just have to take some time off.

"It's going to keep bleeding if you don't let me stitch it up," Will said, not looking at her. "This cut is deep. It's cut through your muscle and foot and I can almost see your bone. I don't even know how you walked here."

"We won't be here much longer though," Lizzie reasoned. Calf muscle and foot were cut. What did that mean? Should she ask him how long it took to heal? He'd probably make something up to try to get her to let him play doctor with her.

"Blizzard's just started," he replied quietly.

"Tell you what," Lizzie said, deciding to think about her ballet career later, needing to focus on the situation at hand: a grumpy, sleepy, British man who hated her wanted to use a needle on her leg. Not happening. "If we have to stay here for more than two days, I'll let you stitch me up." She was sure they wouldn't have to stay for more than a day. The blizzard would clear soon, and they would plow roads by tomorrow afternoon. Then she and Jane could call a taxi to the hospital, and a real doctor, who didn't hate her, could stitch her up. If she even needed stitches.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Well, I don't care," she said.

"No, seriously. It's not a good idea."

"No, seriously. I don't care."

He stared at her for a moment with a look of disbelief. "Fine," he replied, looking a bit angry. Maybe he really wanted to play doctor.

Without a word, he scooped her up from the love seat she was sitting on, and moved her to the couch, closer to the fire. She was so shocked that she didn't even think to protest him manhandling her. He propped her injured leg up on a few pillows on the armrest, then said, "This should help the bleeding a bit. I'll get more bandages so I can bandage you up for now."

He came back a few seconds later with large white strips of cloth. After wrapping her leg tightly, he looked at her head injuries like he did with Jane. Instead of sending her into the bathroom like Jane, he had Charlie bring out a large bowl of warm water, and Jane cleaned her wound for her with a towel. He inspected her shoulder and her arm and declared them fine, just bruised.

Before she could even ponder whether or not she should thank him, he walked away. By the time he came back with pain medication for them, Lizzie was asleep with her head on her sister's lap.


	3. Instead Of Stressed, I Lie Here Charmed

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Three: Instead of Stressed, I Lie Here Charmed**

**---**

**December 28; 4:11AM**  
As William Darcy sat uncomfortably on Caroline's bed, he was once again astounded by the woman's ability to care only for herself.

"I can't believe they walked here, and they knocked on _our_ door! Do you think Jane is stalking you, Charlie?" Caroline was saying as she rummaged through her dresser. She was wearing lime green pajama bottoms and a very small, tight white tank top. Her long red hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head, and her make up was flawless, as always. Will wondered if she wore make up to sleep or if she had put it on as soon as she heard commotion outside of her room. Both options seemed ridiculous to him. Then again, both options seemed normal when realizing this _was_ Caroline Bingley, after all. He spared a glance at the top of her dresser to see there was make up all over it. A few lids of her many colorful powders were out of place, and one brush was stowed upside down in the mist of its right side up counterparts. There was also some flesh colored powder on the otherwise perfect mahogany surface. Will guessed she had done her make up recently in a hurry.

Charlie rolled his eyes at his sister. "The house is the first house on the street, Caroline."

Will glanced around her room, noticing how everything was spotlessly clean, except the dresser. Even her hundreds of fashion magazines were organized by name and date. This surprised Will because he knew Caroline left her things all over the living room.

"Still, she got through the gate," Caroline argued.

"It was your turn to check if it was locked," Charlie reminded her.

She waved him off and plowed on. "It's rather curious, though, isn't it? Elizabeth Bennet lives in near the Lincoln Center. What are they _doing_ all the way out here?" Caroline said.

"And how do you know that, Caroline? Are _you_ stalking _her_?" Louisa joked from the wingback chair in the corner, not looking up from her laptop.

"Of course not!" Caroline declared, miffed to be accused of such a thing. She pulled out some old sweats and lounge pants to give to Charlie. "Here."

Charlie looked at the clothes and made a face. "How old are these?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Oh, would you like me to give your precious Jane my _new_ clothes? What's the point of that? They'll just bleed all over them. I might as well give them clothes I will be throwing out soon anyway."

Charlie sighed exasperatedly at his sister and left the room.

"Did you see how _dirty_ the Bennet sisters were, Louisa?" Caroline asked, not even waiting for Charlie to be out of earshot.

"Yes, and wet too," Louisa agreed.

"That was from the snow," Will felt the need to remind them.

"Yes, but Elizabeth Bennet's hair was such a fright! And she was bleeding all over the floor! Good thing you bandaged her up, Will," Caroline said. "And Charlie just cleaned up her blood like nothing! And Will, you _touched _it!"

Will rolled his eyes. "I touch blood everyday."

"Yes, but what if she had a _disease_ or something?" Caroline asked, positively appalled.

"Again, I deal with that everyday."

"Oh, but this is different, Will. You must know that."

Will decided that Caroline Bingley would be very pretty if not for her mouth. She had a very nice heart shaped face, porcelain skin, blue eyes like Charlie (though hers were much more frigid than her brother's constantly happy ones), and very lovely, high cheekbones. It was just her _mouth_. Her lips were thin, and no amount of lipstick, despite all the outrageous shades, could take away from that fact. He recalled a time when she wore that lip venom stuff to make her lips puff out. He'd thought she'd been stung by an insect of some sort, she had laughed and told him that was the point. Her lips were always unnaturally shiny or unnaturally red or unnaturally _puffy_. He had no idea how women could go through such lengths. It was all so tiring. As he watched Caroline, he decided that a mouth almost always set in a sneer was quite unattractive, even if the rest of her wasn't.

"I would have never walked here. I would have just waited in the car," Louisa said.

"Yes, I know! I would have never disturbed people who were sleeping just to help me! How inconsiderate of them," Caroline added.

Will wondered if Caroline actually had control of any of the words spewing from that unattractive mouth of hers. The idea that she would never disturb anyone was laughable. She was disturbing him right now, damn it. He ran a hand through his already messy mop of hair in frustration, wondering if he was obligated to stay to listen to this.

"I bet you would never want your sister in that situation," Caroline added.

"Of course not." Why on earth would he wish for Ana to be in a car accident and then have to walk for miles to get help?

Caroline smirked triumphantly, finally getting him to agree with her about something. "This must be awful for you, Will, having to help the girls you dislike so much."

He shrugged.

"Oh, look, Louisa, he's not even denying it!" Caroline exclaimed jovially.

"Will doesn't really like anyone though," Louisa pointed out.

Caroline pouted, thin lower lip jutting out. Will couldn't make up his mind about whether or not it was better than her sneer. "That's not true. You like _me_, don't you, Will?" She moved to sit near Will. He realized she was about to sit on his lap, so he quickly stood up.

Will decided that since Charlie had left the room, he could leave too. The smell of Caroline's perfume permeated the air, and it gave him a headache. Or maybe it was Caroline herself.

"Oh, Will, where are you going?"

"I need some sleep."

"You're not going to give Elizabeth your room?" she asked innocently.

"No, she's staying in the living room. It's closer to the bathroom."

"You could give her your room, and stay with me."

Will pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing his loyalty to Charlie. It was only out of loyalty and respect for his friend that he tolerated Caroline and Louisa. "That is absurd, Caroline."

She giggled. "Don't be like that Will. You must be so lonely in your bed."

"I am perfectly fine, thank you." He quickly walked out the door, narrowly escaping Caroline's bony hands.

**December 28; 5:36AM**  
William Darcy could not sleep. He kept falling asleep then waking up half an hour later with his mind racing. He didn't know how to stop it. His mind was going a million miles an hour, and no matter what he tried, he could not get it to slow down. His thoughts were mostly on the stubborn and irrational woman with a mangled leg in Charlie's living room. Why didn't she just let him stitch up her leg for her? He had the equipment. While it wouldn't have been as perfect as if he'd done it in the hospital, it would have been better for her. Why wouldn't she be compliant like her sister? What the hell were they even doing driving around in this weather? The roads had been closed a few hours after they had arrived…had they not realized how bad the storm had been? He rolled over onto his left side and stared into the darkness, willing himself to fall back asleep.

The sisters had settled in the living room, despite the guestroom Charlie had made up for them. Will had insisted that Elizabeth stay on the couch by the fire because it would mean less movement for her. The living room was much closer to a bathroom and the kitchen than the guestroom was. Of course, since Elizabeth was staying there, Jane insisted on staying with her on the love seat. Will simply thought that was absurd, since Jane was taller than Elizabeth, who was already too big for the love seat, meaning Jane just looked ridiculous curled up on it.

Will lay in bed thinking about Elizabeth Bennet. She'd looked different tonight than he remembered her. He'd seen her staring at him when she first came into the party a few nights ago, and brushed her off as another silly starry-eyed girl. She paled in comparison to her model sister. Jane had an undeniably classic beauty that made heads turn, then turn again for another glance. Her blonde hair fell in cascading curls down her back, and her stunningly blue eyes sparkled constantly. Elizabeth, and any other girl in the room, for that matter, really had no chance when standing next to the famous Jane Bennet. Elizabeth had looked…plain next to her sister, a less than perfect version of the older Bennet. Elizabeth's brown hair was very much a contrast to her sister's golden tresses, and her nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken before. While their eyes were the same shape and size, Elizabeth's weren't Jane's blue hue, but more dark green. She was a few inches shorter than her sister, and, next to Jane's elegant floor length violet gown, she looked very much like the younger sister in her frivolous green dress.

He'd watched her interact with her sister and their friend for a few moments, as they fought over a bouquet of crushed flowers, as Jane placated her sister with a daisy, as Elizabeth put the daisy in her hair, making her look even more silly. He'd seen her glance his way more than once.

He'd been surprised to find out that she was an actual dancer, rather than an aspiring one like her friend Charlotte. He'd seen the envious look Caroline gave her when she said she'd been accepted into the ballet academy. He knew Caroline had auditioned for the School of American Ballet more than once when she was young, but he couldn't remember the number at this particular moment.

Tonight, when she stood outside Charlie's door with a fierce expression on her face, she'd looked…impressive. Her hair was wild and covered in snowflakes, her nose was red from the cold, but her eyes looked bright green and determined. He could tell she was in pain, but she'd insisted on her sister being looked at first. He wondered if she knew the extent of her injury. He was almost certain she didn't, because if she did, she would have let him stitch her up. She would have also probably been more worried about what this would do to her ballet career. Will was not an expert on ballerinas, but he was sure the calf muscle was an important muscle. It was truly bad luck that she was the one to sustain a leg injury and her sister sustain a cut to the head. It would have worked better the other way around.

Then when she stubbornly refused his stitches, insisting they'd be able to get to a hospital soon, he wasn't sure if she was crazy or delusional. She'd fallen asleep without pain medication, unlike her sister, who'd taken four pills.

William Darcy was beginning to think he'd been mistaken with his initial assessment of Elizabeth Bennet.

**December 28; 6:09AM**  
Having given up on sleep, Will grabbed some clothes out of his bag so he could take a shower, noting that he'd either have to do laundry or borrow from Charlie soon. It was really a coincidence that he was here. He'd come to help Charlie with a leaky pipe after his twenty-four hour shift at the hospital, and had been invited to dinner. While waiting for Charlie to make dinner, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. When he woke up, it was 9:30 at night, and the news was talking about the blizzard of the century. Charlie and his sisters, especially Caroline, had insisted he stay until it blew over, and, too tired to protest, he complied. Will had no idea that staying here would mean running into the Bennet sisters as well.

Will opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He turned on the hot water, stepped under it and willed himself not to think about anything for the next twenty minutes as he washed himself.

He hadn't completely succeeded in his task, but he'd relaxed a bit. He toweled off and got dressed in some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. He noticed the Armani tag and shook his head. He was probably the only twenty-six year old man that allowed his eighteen-year-old sister to buy all of his clothes for him. Not that it really mattered, since he spent most of his time in scrubs anyway.

When he got to the living room, the sight that was waiting for him almost made him laugh. Elizabeth Bennet, whom he'd just described as impressive in his head a few hours prior, was laying on her back, throwing peanuts in the air and catching them in her mouth. Her sister was nowhere to be found. He wondered briefly if she was in Charlie's room. He watched Elizabeth for a moment, unnoticed, and saw that she caught every single one.

"Do you want to play?" she asked sarcastically, turning her head to look at him.

He shook his head, and walked to the kitchen without another glance at her. He found the other Bennet sister making eggs.

Jane smiled at him, and he was once again reminded that he thought this woman smiled way too much. "Good morning," she said quietly.

"Morning," he replied. He sifted through Charlie's shelves for a coffee filter.

"How did you sleep?" she asked.

"Fine," he lied. An awkward pause passed before he asked, "You?"

She shrugged. "Didn't get much of it. Spent most of it watching Lizzie and talking to Charlie."

He nodded, wondering how he had forgotten their soft voices from the living room. He turned on the coffee machine.

"Thank you for helping my sister," Jane said quietly.

He nodded again, not quite sure what to say.

"Do you really think she needs stitches?"

"Yes," he said, not wanting to nod again. "The sooner the better to lower the risk of infection."

He watched as Jane bit her lip. Then said, "I'll try to convince her to get them, but I should tell you she hates needles."

Will didn't feel the need to dignify that with a response, though he wanted to say fear of needles was a poor reason to refuse dire medical attention. He grabbed a cereal box from the pantry and a bowl.

When his coffee finished brewing, he offered her a cup. She shook her head as she chopped vegetables. He poured himself a cup then left the kitchen, not wanting to be in the way, or worse, be sucked into more awkward conversation. Then he realized he forgot his cereal.

In the living room, Elizabeth was still catching peanuts with her mouth.

"William, how do you like your eggs?" Jane asked from the kitchen doorway,

He looked up at the sound of her voice. "No need to cook for me, Jane. Please call me Will."

"I insist," Jane said. "If you don't tell me I'll just have to make you every kind I know how."

Will opened his mouth to tell her it really wasn't necessary and that he was going to eat cereal, but he heard Elizabeth snort. He looked at her. She met his eyes for the first time this morning, and he noticed they were more brown than green. "She'll really do it, you know."

"I'll just have whatever is easiest, Jane," he told Jane.

Jane nodded and went back into the kitchen. Will looked at Elizabeth to find her staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"You look different," she said simply, breaking eye contact.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged again. He sighed in frustration and finished off his coffee. "Can I look at your leg?"

She looked at him sharply. "What for?"

"I want to change the bandages and see if there are any changes. Have you moved since last night?"

"I got up to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, well, I definitely want to change the bandages."

"Am I not supposed to move at all?" she asked, seemingly angry.

"Well, obviously not. It's just the more you move, the more you'll bleed, unless you let me stitch it up."

She sighed. "You can look at it, but you can't sew it up."

Will had expected that. He went to go wash his hands and get his medical kit.

"How long have you been a doctor?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

He wondered if she hated awkward silences as much as he did. "This is my third year of residency." The leg wound was worrying him. He'd have to make her eat more foods with iron, if they had any. She was losing too much blood too fast.

It was silent as he contemplated what to do with her while carefully bandaging up her leg. He was afraid he'd either run out of bandages or she'd run out of blood. There was only a certain window of time to close this wound, and her refusal wasn't helping.

"I don't know what that means," she said.

"What?"

"Residency."

"Oh," he replied. "Well, it's just a rank, basically. I have an MD, so I'm technically a doctor. I'm a surgeon. I trusted to do procedures, but I'm still learning from the attendings. I was an intern for a while, and now I'll have to be a resident for a few years. It's still part of my training. When I'm done with my residency, I'm looking to specialize in cardiothoracics."

"Oh." She looked like she was thinking, but he knew he needed to change the subject and try to talk her into letting him sew up her leg.

"Listen, I know you don't want me to stitch up your leg for whatever crazy reason, and I know I can't force you to. However, I feel I should give you the facts. Your leg is bruising and swelling, which probably means there's more damage to the tissue than we can see. Stitching it up might not heal that damage right away, but it gives you a better chance. Also, the longer you leave the cut open, even with bandages on, the more you risk infection. Lastly, you are losing a lot of blood. I don't know if you're light headed every time you get up yet, but if you're not, it's going to happen soon." He watched her face as he told her all the facts. He was glad there was at least a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Will it hurt?" she asked, looking very small.

He sighed. "Yes," he said honestly. "I don't have any anesthesia here."

She nodded, looking out the window. She bit her lip. "If you sew it up, I'll be able to get up from the couch?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You won't be able to run a marathon or anything, but your leg won't bleed every time you move either."

"Fine, if it's still snowing tonight, I'll let you sew it up."

He sighed, not believing how difficult this woman was. "It is going to be snowing tonight, so why not just let me stitch it up now?"

"Because I still have hope that it's going to stop snowing," she said quietly.

"That's stupid," he replied bluntly.

She shrugged. "That's all I have."

He finished the bandaging and put away his supplies without another word.

He threw away the bandages, put away his kit, and washed his hands again. Then, instead of returning to the living room, he went to Charlie's garage to get more wood for the fire. He wasn't sure why, because he was sure he'd gotten some last night. He just didn't want to go back to the living room.

As he carried a few logs into the living room, he saw Jane walking from the hallway.

"I was just looking for you. I made you an omelet," she informed him, take a few logs from his arms.

"I've got it," he protested.

"It's fine," she smiled, walking ahead of him to deposit the logs by the pile. There really was no need to have even gone into the bitter cold garage, as there was enough wood now to last a few days.

He saw Elizabeth sitting up eating an omelet. She had moved her leg again, much to his annoyance. Her back was against the armrest that her head had been on earlier, which meant her leg was no longer on the other armrest, but propped up on the pillows only. He deposited the logs as Jane had, then grabbed a few more pillows from an armchair, and carefully put them under Elizabeth's leg.

She looked at him with surprise. He muttered, "The more elevated your leg is, the less bleeding it will do."

"Oh," she said. She looked like she was going to say more, but he didn't want to hear a sarcastic response, so he turned away.

"Your omelet's in the kitchen," Jane said. He nodded, and left the room. He thought about eating in the kitchen alone, but then Jane called, "Would you mind bringing out the orange juice, Will?" He sighed, grabbed the orange juice from the refrigerator and the plate of eggs and bacon, which he assumed was his because it was the only plate, then went back into the living room.

He noticed that Jane had also sliced up some oranges and left them on a plate on the coffee table as well. He felt a bit guilty for doing nothing while she was obviously cooking, but reminded himself that he'd gotten extra firewood.

Will wasn't sure where to sit, as Elizabeth had taken up practically the whole couch while Jane was sitting on the loveseat, so he sat on the floor. He noticed Elizabeth look at him quizzically, but ignored it. He ate his omelet in silence and stared determinedly into the fire.

"How come his omelet looks different from mine?" Elizabeth asked, almost petulantly.

He glanced at her, and saw her plate. Then looked at his own, realizing his omelet did look different. He looked at Jane's. Hers looked like his.

"You have an egg white omelet and your eggs are super well done like you like them," Jane answered. "I put the extra yolks in the other omelets."

"Oh," she replied.

He wished she would say more than that, but then remembered he wasn't much of a talker either.

"Honestly, Lizzie, are you sure your eggs aren't too dry?" Jane asked.

"I'm sure. I like them this way," Elizabeth answered.

**December 28; 11:50AM**  
William Darcy watched as Elizabeth Bennet read her book, despite the noise from the horrible show Caroline and Louisa had chosen on MTV. She was reading _Crime and Punishment_, which surprised him because, well, to be honest, he pegged her for a _Cosmo _type of girl, like Caroline. The cynical part of him wondered if she had just asked Jane to choose a book from Charlie's library and was now pretending to read it. Her eyes were going from left to right though, so he supposed she was really reading.

Charlie and his sisters had gotten up not too long ago, and heated up the breakfast Jane had prepared. Caroline was the only one that did not eat the omelets and bacon, choosing instead to go for oatmeal, probably because she was bitter about the Bennet sisters' presence here. He thought that was rather immature and stupid, mostly because the omelet had been rather good.

Caroline had tried to convince Elizabeth to move into the extra guestroom so that the living room would become a more common area, but Will had protested, giving reasons he'd given last night. Then Caroline again tried to convince Will to stay with her in her room and give Elizabeth his room. He shuddered at the thought of sharing a bed with Caroline Bingley.

Jane and Charlie had gone to his room to "watch a movie." He smiled when he remembered the way Elizabeth had leered at her sister, and the way Jane had blushed.

He wasn't sure how, but he was now sitting on the loveseat with Louisa on his right side and Caroline snuggled into his left side. They were watching some show with the guy from _Saved By The Bell_ and a lot of random kids in strange costumes dancing. He scanned the room for his medical text to study. It was near the fireplace. He caught Elizabeth's eye when he looked in that direction and she held his gaze for a moment. Caroline purred and snuggled closer to him. He scowled. When he looked at Elizabeth again, Will found her eyes dancing and her lips with a hint of a smile.

Caroline was moving closer to him again, practically on his lap now. "Caroline," he said warningly.

"Yes, Will?" she said, what he supposed was a seductive voice in her mind. He hoped she didn't think this turned him on, more like it revolted him.

"I must check on Elizabeth's leg," he said, glancing at Elizabeth, whose eyes had narrowed at him. When Caroline turned her head to look at Elizabeth also, she looked away, feigning deaf. Will quickly extracted himself from Caroline and moved to Elizabeth.

He took his medical text from the floor, then knelt to Elizabeth's side to inspect her leg. She did seem to be bleeding less. Or perhaps he had just used more bandages this time. Either way, she didn't need a change of bandages quite yet.

"Way to be an opportunist," Elizabeth muttered quietly.

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, Caroline was trying to suffocate you, you looked at me and saw an opportunity to get out."

His brows furrowed. "So?"

She smiled, but more to herself than to him. He decided she had a nicer smile than her sister. Perhaps because they were so rare, unlike Jane's whose very existence meant smiling. "Using an injured girl to get out of a situation. Isn't that against your doctor's code of ethics or something?"

He couldn't tell if she was joking with him or not, so he chose not to say anything.

They sat there like that for a while, in silence. Then he asked, "Does anyone know you're here?"

She nodded. "Jane called our mother last night."

"Just your mother? What about the police?"

"I think Jane expected my mom to do that. I doubt she will though."

"Shouldn't you call them, then?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I did earlier. They said the roads are closed so they can't get an ambulance out here until the roads are plowed. They sounded like they felt bad, so I just told them we weren't in any immediate danger. I mean, my leg's not_ that_ bad, right? It's just a cut, and when it stops snowing, Jane and I can go to the hospital and they can numb it and fix it."

Will was floored. Did she not realize the severity of her condition? "It's snowing like crazy outside," he pointed out. "It's not going to stop soon, and your leg is certainly 'not that bad.' It's in horrible shape."

"You don't have to be such a pessimist, you know."

"I'm being realistic."

"Whatever," she said, sounding very much like a sullen teenager. "I hate needles, and it's not like I've never had an injury before. I always recover. It's not a big deal. I don't want you to try to fix it."

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"Twenty-four, why?"

He stared at her. "Are you truly?"

She looked at him oddly. "Yes, why?"

"You act very young, is all," he replied.

She smirked at him. "Are you really calling me immature when you're the one that wants to play doctor with my leg?"

He frowned. "I don't want to _play _doctor. In case you get it before, I _am_ a doctor."

"I'm sure every twenty-something guy that's been to med school fancies himself a doctor. I have no patience for it," she said. Her voice, though softer now, held much more venom.

He opened his mouth to correct her, but then realized why it sounded familiar. He looked at her, and she met his gaze with the same fierce look she had last night when he opened the door. Will wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry you heard that," he said finally.

"But not sorry you said it." Elizabeth finally looked at him, she was smirking, her eyes daring him to reply. He noticed they looked greener than they had been this morning. He thought about defending himself, but she opened her book and continued reading, a clear hint that she didn't want to talk anymore. He sighed, and went to his room for a nap. Women were exhausting, especially ones named Elizabeth Bennet.

**December 28; 1:56PM**  
When Will could ignore his growling stomach no longer, he got out of bed reluctantly. He wished the blizzard would be over as much as Elizabeth Bennet seemed to. He longed for his own bed and his own apartment, where it was quiet and free of women. Women, what a headache.

"Yes, yes, I would be the most accomplished of all," Elizabeth was saying when he walked into the living room.

"Oh, just because you can dance, Lizzie?" Jane asked playfully. "Men in those days valued dancing, sure, but they valued _quiet_ and _docile _women as well. And you, dear sister, are neither of those things."

"Alright, alright. So, Caroline says fashion sense, I say dancing, Jane says quiet and docile," she stopped and made a face at this, "and Louisa says women must have a thorough knowledge of fine arts and literature." Elizabeth paused. "I don't see what good that would do, women weren't wanted for their _brains_ back then." Then she smiled at Charlie and said, "And Charlie here says that all women are accomplished in one fashion or another." She then pretended to gag at Charlie, who laughed.

Will snorted. Typical Charlie answer. At the noise, eyes turned to him.

"What about you, Mr. Darcy? What do you think men valued in women back in the day?"

"What day?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Elizabeth said, waving her hand flippantly. "The days when men held all the power and chose women based on status and looks."

"Men still do that."

Elizabeth frowned. "I suppose some do." She sighed. "You're such a kill-joy, Mr. Darcy."

"Lizzie!" Jane scolded.

Elizabeth smiled at her sister. "Caroline and I are trying to decide which one of us would have been more accomplished back then."

"Lesser of two evils type thing, I suppose," he muttered without thinking.

"Oh, _Will_!" Caroline exclaimed in a strange tone. Elizabeth laughed.

"Everything you listed, except for Charlie's opinion, and for the most part, Jane's, is what I consider an accomplished woman now," he said, sitting down in the empty armchair and taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table. "But I would add that she must not only be intelligent, but she must never settle, she must work to continue improving her mind."

"Do you know any women like this, Mr. Darcy? Women you can attest to be truly accomplished?"

"Yes," he answered simply. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caroline look at him eagerly.

"Really?"

"Yes," he said again. "My sister, I consider quite accomplished."

Elizabeth smiled. "I consider my sister quite accomplished as well."

"Thank you, Lizzie," Jane said from her place on the floor of Elizabeth's couch. Elizabeth was stroking her sister's hair, Will noticed, being careful of the head wound. "I consider you quite accomplished too, but I still don't think you'd be considered accomplished in the old days just because you can dance."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, alright then. Just because I'm not a doormat."

"Being quiet and docile does not mean you're a doormat, Lizzie," Jane said.

Will munched on popcorn as he watched the scene before him. Charlie was staring at Jane. Louisa typing away on her laptop. Caroline was look from him, Louisa, and Charlie with narrowed eyes, obviously wanting one of them to claim that _she_ was accomplished.

"Caroline, would you say that _your_ sister is accomplished?" Elizabeth asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"Yes," Caroline said simply, staring at her sister.

"Thanks, Caroline," Louisa said, without looking up from her laptop.

Caroline frowned. "She does have her faults though."

"Everyone has their faults," Jane pointed out.

"Yours is that you are too nice," Elizabeth said to her sister.

"And yours is that you aren't nice enough," Jane said with a kind smile. "You're also rather grumpy in the morning."

"I can live with that." Elizabeth turned her eyes to him. "What about you, Mr. Darcy? What is your fault?"

Will was taken aback by the question. He paused to consider his answer carefully.

Elizabeth Bennet did not give him ample time to think. Instead, she pounced when she saw his hesitation. "Are you too vain to think of a fault, Mr. Darcy?"

He opened his mouth to tell her certainly not, but Caroline seemed to think she should come to his rescue. "Will isn't vain. He's just perfect. I can't think of a single fault he may possess." She then smiled at him in that disgusting manner that made him want to sever ties with Charlie just so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

"I certainly am not perfect," he said.

"Just too proud to come up with a fault? That in itself could be your fault," Elizabeth replied.

"Pride isn't a fault."

Elizabeth grinned. "Really? Or are you simply too vain to consider it one?"

"I'm sure you're proud of your dancing skills. Would you consider that a fault?" he countered.

"I suppose not," she said, shrugging. "Pride isn't a fault if there's something to be proud of."

"And that, dear sister, would be vanity," Jane said with a grin at her sister.

Elizabeth laughed. "You're right, Jane, of course. I suppose I am a bit vain." She shrugged again. "But what about you, Mr. Darcy? You claim you're not too vain or too proud, and yet you still have not come up with a fault for us."

"He holds grudges," Charlie said, speaking for the first time since Will had come into the room.

Will nodded slowly. "Yes, that is true," he agreed. "I am quick to anger, but slow to forgive."

"I'd say you never forgive," Charlie pointed out.

Will considered his friend's words, then nodded again. "My trust, my friendship, my loyalty, my good opinion…once lost, are lost forever. I do not believe in second chances."

Elizabeth stared at him with piercing, dark green eyes for a moment before she smiled. "I suppose that is a fault then."

"What about you, Charlie?" Jane asked.

"That's easy. I'm a terrible light weight," Charlie answered with a grin.

Jane and Elizabeth giggled. Caroline rolled her eyes. "I have no faults, so don't bother asking me, Elizabeth," she said when Elizabeth turned her eyes on her.

Will smirked. "How very predictable," he muttered sarcastically.

Elizabeth gave him a small, genuine smile, and Will felt an odd sensation in his stomach when he saw it.


	4. Welcome To The Jungle We Got Fun & Games

**Author's Note:** I know some of you have concerns about the way Lizzie is handling her injury, and I just wanted to clear it up a bit. Lizzie is stubborn, afraid of needles, and she doesn't like Darcy. She has absolutely no tangible reason to trust him (except that Charlie likes him, but Charlie likes everyone, so it's not much to go by), and he's given her no reason to trust him. Yeah, she knows he's a doctor, but would you really let some guy saying he's a doctor to sew up your leg? A guy you already don't like? She does care about her career and her leg, and she's scared. Darcy's done nothing to ease her fears. Also, she really does believe they aren't going to be there much longer. All that, combined with her naïve belief that she is invincible, or at least extremely resilient, is what drives her decision to refuse medical advice.

Lastly, I have to warn you that this chapter is a bit…choppy, I feel. It covers a larger span of time than the previous chapters, but with fewer words. I tried to transition all the scenes smoothly, but ended up deleting them all because so much of it was "a few minutes later…" and "a little while later..." and "and then..." etc. There's just not much to write about when a few people are snowed in, I suppose. But I hope you like it anyway. Please review. :]

* * *

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Four: Welcome To The Jungle, We Got Fun and Games**

**---**

**December 28; 3:39PM**  
"Authorities found the car early yesterday while they were surveying roads. The car is registered under Elizabeth Bennet, a principal dancer at the New York City Ballet Company, best known for her leading role in the ballet Swan Lake a few years ago, which had only gotten mediocre reviews until Bennet took on the role. Her manager says she is safe, but refused to give further details about Bennet's condition, how she got to safety, or where she is now," A very pretty news reporter said, her head in front of a picture of the wrecked car, half covered in snow. "Authorities found traces of blood in the passenger seat, and say that it belongs to Bennet, but gave no word on who the driver was."

"You thought to call your manager?" Caroline asked incredulously.

"I suppose my mother did," Lizzie replied. "I only called the police and my mother."

She glanced at the window. More than half the day was over and it was still snowing. She sighed.

**December 28; 4:00PM**  
"The internet has gone out," Louisa announced sorrowfully.

Lizzie studied the extremely average looking Bingley for a moment. She looked very morose indeed. "Did you need the internet badly?" she asked curiously.

Louisa shrugged. "I was supposed to talk to Jeffrey."

"Jeffrey?" Jane inquired quietly.

"Jeffrey Hurst. Her _internet_ boyfriend," Caroline answered, her voice dripping with malice.

Louisa blushed. "At least I _have _someone."

"A picture on the computer and some words strung together nicely won't keep you warm at night," Caroline countered.

Louisa said nothing to defend herself. She simply left the room in a huff. Charlie scolded Caroline, who ignored him, then went to go see what he could do about the internet connection. Nothing could be done, but Louisa did emerge from her room half an hour later.

**December 28; 4:34PM**  
The lights flickered for a moment. Mr. Darcy suggested to Charlie that he ought to prepare for the possibility that their power might go out. Charlie, Jane, and Mr. Darcy set out to make preparations.

Charlie and Mr. Darcy went to chop more wood, despite darkening skies and the ample supply of wood they already had. Both men came back with snowflakes all over them, their arms full of firewood.

Jane turned the kitchen upside down looking for food they'd be able to cook without a stove. She also located seven different flashlights and what seemed like a week's worth of batteries.

Charlie also found a small generator in the garage, and together, he and Darcy figured out how to work it. They kept it in the corner of the room for future use.

Lizzie watched them all move around and dearly missed her ability to walk without leaving a bloody trail.

**December 28; 4:59PM**  
Lizzie allowed Jane to tend to her head wound again. She offered to do the same thing for her sister, but Jane had already done it herself. Mr. Darcy had given them some sort of ointment to put on the cut, and, not that she'd tell him, it felt absolutely wonderful on her head.

**December 28; 5:19PM**  
Lizzie chewed her nail as she watched it snow outside. If it didn't stop soon, she'd have to face her fear of needles and put her trust in Mr. Darcy. She wasn't sure which was worse.

"Don't chew your nail, Lizzie," Jane scolded softly.

"Don't nag, Janie," Lizzie replied as playfully as she could, not taking her eyes from the window.

She put her hands in her lap.

**December 28; 5:42PM**  
Lizzie was _bored_. The cable and internet were out, yet somehow everyone had found something to do outside of the living room. She glanced around the room for something to take her mind off the way her leg was throbbing.

She reached for two of the metallic sharpies on the coffee table, green and purple. Jane had found them earlier in a drawer and had used them to make a list of all the things they owed Caroline (mainly overpriced lounge pants). Lizzie looked around for some paper. She spotted some on the armchair that Mr. Darcy had been sitting on earlier. She began to get up to grab it, but then Mr. Darcy walked into the living room from his room, so she pretended she was just shifting positions. He looked at her suspiciously, and she glared back. She was struck with the idea of asking him to grab it for her, but before she could swallow her pride and work up the nerve, he'd already reached the kitchen.

Lizzie sighed again and began coloring her nails with the sharpies, giving up on the idea of getting up for paper. When she was done giving her nails stripes and polka dots, she colored her hair, not even really expecting it to show up. Soon, her hair was an odd mixture of brown and silvery green and purple. Lizzie still wasn't satisfied. Her hands were covered in sharpie, she had a headache from the smell, and nothing left to color.

**December 29; 5:55PM**  
Caroline Bingley screamed from her bathroom. Seconds later, she emerged wearing nothing but a tiny, hot pink towel that clashed with her red hair horribly.

The water heater had stopped working. Lizzie smiled. She always was one to look for the silver lining. Caroline Bingley's furious face was definitely a silver lining. A tiny silver lining on a very dark and gloomy cloud, but a silver lining nonetheless.

**December 28; 6:22PM**  
Mr. Darcy kept looking at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Lizzie wasn't sure why he kept looking at her, just that he was. She could see him doing it from the corner of her eye. Sometimes it seemed like he was looking to make sure she was still there. _As if she could just get up and walk away, _Lizzie thought bitterly. _If only_. Other times, he seemed to be studying her. The rest of the time, he seemed to just be looking at her like she was crazy. Lizzie didn't like it one bit.

She turned her head and glared at him. "What?" she demanded.

He looked taken aback by her outburst, but then asked, "What on earth did you do to your hair?"

**December 28; 6:41PM**  
Jane claimed she was cooking a lot for two reasons: to prepare for the inevitable power outage and to use all the perishable food. Lizzie knew there was a third reason: Jane was nervous and needed a distraction. Lizzie knew that she was part of the reason her sister for her sister's anxiety, but knew that Charlie was too, because he had been banished from the kitchen about half an hour ago.

Everyone was now watching "The Strangers" in the living room. Lizzie felt bad for taking up the whole couch, but when she offered to move, Mr. Darcy yelled at her.

Charlie was sitting on the floor. He let his sisters have the loveseat, and when Caroline kicked Louisa off and Darcy offered Louisa the armchair, Charlie went into Caroline's room and brought out the wingback chair for Mr. Darcy. Darcy was reluctant to take it, but Charlie insisted. Lizzie decided that Charlie was one of those genuinely nice men nearing extinction, almost an urban myth. She decided she very much liked him for her favorite sister.

**December 28; 9:26PM**  
The power died while Mr. Darcy was setting up to stitch up her leg. Lizzie, who did not take much heed to omens or horoscopes or tarot readings or fortune cookie slips, believed it to be a sign that this wouldn't end well.

However, her head was in Jane's lap, and her older sister was holding her hand and softly stroking her hair, so Lizzie kept calm, despite her rapidly beating heart.

Then she saw Mr. Darcy pull out a needle. She felt her dinner rising as she stared at it, swallowing audibly.

Jane squeezed her hand, but she barely felt it. Tears began to form in her eyes. Mr. Darcy looked at her, and seemed to understand. He shifted his position so that his back faced her and she couldn't see his hands or the needle. This did little to ease her worries, because now she couldn't watch what he was doing…

She sighed and stared at the clock and willed time to move faster.

With a few lamps powered by the small generator, Charlie holding a flashlight in each hand for Mr. Darcy – _Dr. Darcy_, Lizzie mused – and the light of the fire, Darcy began the slow and painful process of sewing up Lizzie's leg. Lizzie gripped Jane's hand and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the tears running down her face. She wasn't sure if they were tears of defeat, frustration, or pain, and she didn't care. She concentrated on taking deep breaths through her nose.

The first prick of the needle had been the least painful, Lizzie decided. She hadn't been expecting it, but now she knew Darcy's habits. He sewed at a steady pace, so she knew every 1.5 seconds would bring another prick of the needle, another feeling of thread coursing through her skin, another pull of her tissues. Jane and Charlie had tried talking to her, but they couldn't find anything that would calm Lizzie down or distract her enough, so they gave up.

"It's not perfect, but it's done," Mr. Darcy announced quietly after what felt like an eternity.

Jane moved to take a look, but Lizzie continued staring at the ceiling. "Is it wrapped?"

"Not yet." She heard movement and felt a warm, wet cloth cleaning her wound. Then she felt the sting of alcohol as he cleaned it more. Finally, he wrapped it.

Only then did Lizzie allow herself to look at her leg. It looked like it had this morning, and she could easily pretend she had not endured half an hour of someone sewing her leg up like some ragdoll.

She heard Jane thank Mr. Darcy on her behalf.

**December 28; 10:22PM**  
Lizzie resentfully ate her beef fajitas. She didn't usually eat red meat, but Jane had insisted there was no chicken, and that beef had more iron anyway. Lizzie made a note to Google that as soon as she could.

She felt sleepy, but Darcy had insisted she stay awake for a few more hours so he could observe her. That just sounded creepy, but she complied.

"Let's play a game," Caroline said, only picking at her own fajita.

"What kind of game?" Jane asked. Lizzie wondered if anyone else heard how tired her voice was. She saw Charlie look over at her with concern etched on his handsome features.

"I don't know," Caroline said. "We could play Spin the Bottle!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. She caught Darcy's eyes. He gave her a magnificently expressive look, conveying to her exactly what he thought of Caroline Bingley and her games. She turned away, but found her lips upturned in a small smile.

"Half of this room is related to each other," Lizzie pointed out.

"Plus Lizzie and Jane," Charlie added.

"So, siblings won't kiss each other," Caroline said innocently.

Lizzie rolled her eyes again. Her patience was waning thin. "Why don't you just ask him to kiss you?"

"Who?" Caroline asked, eyes narrowed, but still playing dumb.

"Nobody," Jane replied, giving Lizzie a pleading look.

"Fine," Caroline said. "How about 'Never Have I Ever'?"

"There's no alcohol," Louisa reminded her. "It's all gone from that Christmas party we threw a few days ago."

Lizzie laughed. "We can just play without alcohol."

"What fun would that be?" Louisa asked.

Caroline was eying Lizzie with a strange expression. "Let's play. We'll just use our fingers, and put one down every time we've done something. First one to lose all their fingers on one hand loses."

There was a pregnant pause as everyone looked around. Caroline kept her eyes on Lizzie, daring her to object.

Never one to turn down a dare, Lizzie announced, "I'm in."

"Me too, I suppose," Louisa said.

Charlie sighed. "Alright."

"Me too," Jane said.

All eyes turned to Darcy. He shrugged and nodded.

"Alright, I'll start," Caroline said, holding up her open palm. Everyone followed her example. "Never have I ever…had sex with more than twelve men."

No one put down a finger, and Caroline looked so disappointed that Lizzie laughed. "Twelve's an oddly specific number."

Her icy blue eyes narrowed again. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing," Lizzie sing songed.

"Is it your turn, Louisa?" Jane asked, sensing a conflict and cutting it off before it could start.

Louisa nodded. "Never have I ever been to Italy." Jane, Darcy, and Caroline put a finger down.

"That wasn't very interesting," Caroline scolded. "We're supposed to be finding out interesting details about each other."

Louisa shrugged. "At least mine got people to put their fingers down."

Charlie sighed. "Never have I ever read the Harry Potter books." Jane and Lizzie were the only ones to put a finger down.

Lizzie gasped when she realized this. "You guys have never read the Harry Potter books?" She turned to Jane. "You can't date Charlie."

Jane blushed. Then she turned to Charlie, "They really are good books, you know."

Charlie blushed as well. "They're just so long, and I hardly have any time to read."

"There's always time to read Harry Potter, Charlie!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"How old are you, Elizabeth?" Caroline asked with her nose turned up.

Lizzie caught Darcy's eye and laughed. "I'm twenty-four. Don't judge, Caroline. There are fifty year olds that read Harry Potter. How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," Caroline answered.

"And how old are _you_, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"Twenty-six."

Jane looked at him curiously. "And you're a resident?"

He shrugged ambiguously.

"Caroline, are you the oldest person in the room then?" Lizzie asked with a smirk.

"No! Louisa is twenty-nine!" Caroline replied.

"Oh, my bad."

"Is it my turn now?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Caroline replied.

Jane took a moment to think before saying, "Never have I ever eaten a pickle." Everyone but Jane and Caroline put a finger down. Lizzie snickered at her sister's choice. Caroline once again looked disappointed. Darcy and Louisa looked bored, and Charlie just looked at Jane adoringly.

"Never have I ever had a nose job," Lizzie declared. No one put a finger down, but Charlie and Louisa were looking at Caroline pointedly. Finally, she rolled her eyes and put a finger down.

"At least I recognize my flaws and have the courage to fix them," she said, looking pointedly at Lizzie and her less than perfect nose.

Lizzie grinned and touched her slightly crooked nose with her free hand. Before she could retort, Jane said, "Lizzie broke her nose in third grade when she took a punch for me."

No one had anything to say to that. Lizzie laced her free hand with her sister's and gave it a grateful squeeze.

"Never have I ever dyed my hair," Darcy said. Everyone but Darcy and Lizzie put down a finger.

"How unfair, Will," Caroline complained.

"Why?"

"Jane, Charlie, and I are expected to change our appearances from time to time," Caroline said. "We can hardly help that."

"You chose your careers," Lizzie reminded her.

She narrowed her eyes at Lizzie again. Lizzie was beginning to wonder if that was supposed to have some sort of effect on her. She toyed with the idea of telling her it didn't.

"Never have I ever been dumped," Caroline said proudly.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and put a finger down. She noticed that she was the only one that did, at the same time Caroline did. Caroline sneered at her. Lizzie smiled back.

"Well, Lizzie, that was only because –"

"Oh, hush, Jane. He dumped me," Lizzie cut off her sister, a smile still set in place.

Jane looked like she wanted to protest, but kept mum.

"Never have I ever dated a sister's ex," Louisa said.

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You dated Jack for two weeks, and he liked me the entire time. He's hardly an ex!"

"He was!" Louisa insisted.

"I was fifteen!"

"Put down a finger, Caroline!"

Caroline let out an exasperated sigh, but put a finger down. She then proceeded to change her remaining finger from pointer finger to middle finger, effectively flipping everyone off.

"Real mature," Lizzie muttered.

"Uh," Charlie stuttered, clearly uncomfortable with the way this game was playing out. "Never have I ever worn high heels."

Lizzie grinned at Charlie, glad that he had found an innocent way to end this game, and put a finger down.

"That doesn't count!" Caroline exclaimed. "Half of those were specifically targeting me."

"Oh, because you were hardly targeting Elizabeth," Darcy replied sarcastically. He must have realized that defending her was unexpectedly out of character for him because when all eyes curiously turned to him, he started cleaning up dishes.

Jane looked at Lizzie with her eyebrows raised and Lizzie shrugged, not really sure what to make of William Darcy anymore.

**December 29; 2:23AM**  
Lizzie stared into the fire, marveling at the way orange and yellow and red melded together and crackled slightly. She was cold. They'd used the generator to support a small space heater, but other than that and the fire, there was no heat. Jane was snuggled under two blankets on the loveseat. Will and Charlie had pulled out two mattresses from the rooms so everyone could sleep in the living room where the heat was. Lizzie felt guilty about taking up the couch, despite Charlie and Will insisting it was fine. It would have been like a fun sleep over, had it not been for the fact that Lizzie disliked half of the room.

Much to her disappointment, Caroline Bingley didn't snore, talk, or twitch in her sleep. She was a perfectly perfect sleeper like Jane. This bored Lizzie. Charlie and Louisa were perfect too, and Lizzie wondered if it was a Bingley thing. Will slept next to Charlie and occasionally tossed and turned. At one point, she'd witnessed him throwing his arm wildly, and hitting Charlie across the chest. She thought Charlie might wake up, but he quietly hummed and said nothing. Will then turned from his back to his side, facing Charlie. Lizzie hoped they would spoon, but she was once again disappointed.

**December 29; 8:57AM**  
The sound of shuffling woke Lizzie. When she opened her eyes to see Will was by himself on the mattress. She briefly wondered where Charlie was. She listened carefully for clues. She heard very quiet voices from the kitchen. Lizzie craned her neck to see if Jane was still sleeping. She wasn't. Her blankets were folded neatly on the loveseat. Lizzie smiled and closed her eyes, hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep.

**December 29; 9:22AM**  
"Oh, _bloody _hell!"

Lizzie's eyes popped open. She turned to the culprit. Will Darcy was standing up straight, looking attractively disheveled. She couldn't put her finger quite on the expression on his face. He was glaring though. Glaring at his mattress. His mattress with Caroline Bingley in it, now sitting up and giving him her most innocent smile.

"Really, Will, you'll wake up the others," Caroline scolded.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Caroline?"

She pouted. "Louisa was hogging the bed, and I saw Charlie had left you, so I decided to crawl into bed with you. You were so warm. Are you dreadfully angry with me, Will?"

"Yes!" He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. He muttered something under his breath that Lizzie couldn't quite make out before walking out of the room.

Caroline looked crestfallen. When she realized Lizzie was awake and had seen the whole thing, she narrowed her eyes, raised her chin, and went to follow Will.

**December 29; 10:43AM**  
Charlie was being a good sport. He had played the card game Speed with Lizzie seven times. He had lost all seven times with a smile and a quiet congrats.

Jane was taking a nap, having woken up at the crack of dawn for no reason. Caroline and Louisa were reading fashion magazines. And Will was…being himself and brooding in a corner. Lizzie was bored, and Charlie was obliging.

"We can play a different game if you'd like," Lizzie suggested.

Charlie grinned. "No, no. I have to win at least once, Lizzie, for my manly pride."

Lizzie laughed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I've beat Jane several times, you see." Charlie said. "I have to beat both Bennets."

She laughed again, picturing Jane and Charlie playing cards, knowing Jane probably let him win. After all, Jane was better than Lizzie at this game.

**December 29; 1:09PM**  
Lizzie noticed it had stopped snowing while she was tossing paper balls into the fire with Jane. She hoped this meant they wouldn't be here much longer.

Jane laughed suddenly and Lizzie saw that Jane had hit Charlie, who was feeding logs into the fire, in the head. Charlie gave her a good-natured shake of his fist.

Lizzie briefly wondered if her sister would even mind if they had to stay here for a more few days. Jane probably wanted to stay here with Charlie. She sighed and wished there was a way for her and Jane to both get what they wanted.

**December 29; 2:30PM**  
The power came back on exactly five minutes after everyone finished their semi-cold, semi-burnt lasagna (Jane and Charlie tried to heat up leftovers in a pan over the fire).

"Thank God!" Caroline exclaimed from her room. Some time after Will's loud rejection, she had decided that freezing in her room would be better than the company of her siblings, Will Darcy, and the Bennets. Nobody missed her.

Louisa checked her laptop, then pouted. "Internet's still out."

Will and Charlie moved the mattresses back in the rooms, but only Charlie returned.

**December 29; 5:54PM**  
While he was checking her leg, Lizzie realized that she had been calling him Will in her head for the whole day. She wasn't sure what to make of this.

"I called the police and the hospital," he told her carefully, not taking his eyes from her leg.

She shrugged. "Okay."

"They should be here by tomorrow at the latest. I'm pretty sure they have road crews clearing the snow."

"Alright." Lizzie didn't know how he wanted her to respond. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"They can give your leg better attention." He turned to look at her for the first time since sitting down. She noticed for the first time that his unreadable eyes were a cool slate gray color.

"You have nice eyes," she mumbled without thinking.

He was taken aback by her comment. As was she. "Thank you," he said cautiously. "Yours are-" he paused. "I can't seem to decide what color they are," he confessed.

"They're hazel," she replied.

He stared into her eyes, as if trying to determine if she was truthful, and Lizzie tried not to blink. "They are," he said.

She nodded, feeling odd. She cleared her throat. "So are you done?"

"Yes," he said, a little too loudly. Jane glanced in their direction curiously. Lizzie smiled to reassure her sister. "I just have to wrap it."

Lizzie watched him wrap her leg, as she had the previous times. He had a crease in his brow as if he were thinking about something too hard.

**December 29; 7:45PM**  
Will glanced at the clock constantly, and he kept checking his bag and looking around the room, as if he was forgetting something.

Lizzie suddenly remembered that he didn't live here either. He must be anxious to get home.

_Home_, Lizzie thought with a smile of anticipation.

**December 29; 9:01PM**  
Lizzie was in between asleep and awake on her sister's lap. Jane was running her hand through Lizzie's hair soothingly, and Lizzie knew sleep was just a few strokes further. Suddenly, a loud bang at the door pulled Lizzie from limbo.

She sat up quickly, her brain registering someone at the door meant _someone at the fucking door_! It meant roads were plowed, and they could leave! _Unless someone else got into a car accident_, Lizzie thought, amused. She twisted around and carefully set both feet on the ground, looking around for her stuff. As soon as she stood up, leaning on Jane not to put too much pressure on her leg, she saw a paramedic walk into the room.

"You're Elizabeth and Jane Bennet?" he asked.

Lizzie's eyes widened. "Yes," she answered.

He nodded. "We have an ambulance outside ready to transport you to Austen Memorial Hospital."

He took her by surprise. She hadn't expected to go to the hospital right away. It was the smartest course of action, obviously. Lizzie had just been so looking forward to coming home to her apartment. That, and the pain killers she'd taken a few hours prior had made her almost forget about the state of her leg.

She saw Will rush into his room after speaking to another paramedic. Charlie was helping her put on her jacket. It was difficult task because her arm still hurt a little, and she already had his oversized hoody on. Then he helped Jane with hers. Lizzie saw them bring a stretcher in, and her eyes widened.

"Uh, is this necessary?" she asked.

"Please don't be difficult, Lizzie," Jane pleaded.

Lizzie sighed. She turned to Charlie. "Thanks so much for everything, Charlie. We'll pay you back soon." She gave him a hug.

He laughed. "We'll be following you to the hospital."

"Really?" she asked, incredulous.

"Of course," he replied, smiling.

**December 29; 9:22PM**  
The sound of the ambulance siren was giving her a headache. The sterile smell of the vehicle invaded her nose and made her dizzy. The pain meds had worn off and now the throbbing was back with a vengeance. Jane was squeezing her hand too hard. Lizzie's mind was overcome with a million different scenarios that all ended in her not being able to dance ever again.

"Jane," Lizzie whispered, before vomiting her dinner all over her sister's shoes.


	5. All The Things That Make You Panic

**Author's Note: **I have to thank lynniern, tragedianmaeve, and Cecily who PMed/emailed me with medical options for Lizzie. I rewrote this chapter about three times because they gave me so many different options and I just couldn't decide lol. My infinite gratitude to them.

And everyone that's reviewed. Holy cow, you guys are awesome. I appreciate all your questions and comments.

Also thanks to my beta Lizzy, who's a bit of an airhead (her words, not mine!), but she finds a bunch of my run on sentences and gives me all these new words to use lol. :]

* * *

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Five: All The Things That Make You Panic**

**---**

**December 29; 9:24PM**  
"I'm so sorry, Jane," Lizzie apologized again, trying to move to see the damage she'd done to her sister's shoes as she was cleaning them. The vehicle didn't smell sterile anymore, but she wasn't sure if it was an upgrade; she was still dizzy.

"It's fine, Lizzie, don't worry about it. We'll just have to pay Caroline back for these too," Jane replied.

"They were Caroline's?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes. I believe she got them for Christmas. We couldn't find mine, so Charlie handed me these."

"She's gonna be so upset," Lizzie said gleefully, smiling for the first time since they got in the ambulance.

Jane didn't reply. Instead, she felt her sister's hand on her forehead. "Lizzie, are you sure you're alright? You're sweating."

"Am I?" she asked. "I'm actually a bit cold."

Jane looked at her in alarm, but said nothing. Lizzie saw a paramedic join Jane. He wasn't very nice looking, but perhaps it was because of the frown he had on.

"Ma'am, are you feeling alright?"

Lizzie nodded, though it didn't help her dizziness. He put his fingers on her pulse, then announced, "Your pulse is worrying me. You're pale. You may be going into shock."

She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine except for the dizziness and the cold and the damn pain in her leg, but he put something over her mouth just as the vehicle came to a stop.

There were doctors waiting outside for them.

"Twenty-four year old female, injured in a car accident two days prior, injury to the head, sore right arm and shoulder, deep trauma to the right leg, possibly going into shock," the paramedic announced to the team of doctors.

Lizzie would have opened her mouth to yell at the paramedic, and tell him she wasn't going into shock, damn it, but then things went a little blurry, and she wasn't sure why. She squinted her eyes to try to see clearer, but it didn't help. Her head felt heavy. She stared up at the white ceiling of the room they'd taken her in. She found it odd that there were patchy red spots on the ceiling and squinted again to try to clear her vision. A few confused moments later, everything finally black.

**December 29; 10:00PM**  
Lizzie woke up to hands all over her leg and her sister's pretty, worried face looking over her. She squinted, her eyes sensitive to the bright lights above her head. For a moment, she thought she was in her bed at home, and Jane was waking her up for school.

"Lizzie," Jane whispered, holding her right hand tightly. Lizzie tried to move her left arm to touch her sister, but found an IV attached to it. Everything came crashing back to her. The car accident, Charlie's house, Will Darcy, stitches, an ambulance…

Before she could ask, Jane said, "You're going straight into surgery, Lizzie."

"Surgery?" she croaked. Her throat felt hoarse.

"They're going to remove the stitches and-"

"What! I got them for nothing?"

"Not nothing, Lizzie," Jane replied soothingly. "They helped reduce the bleeding, but the doctors examined the muscle because Will told them he was worried about the way your leg was continuing to swell."

"Swell?" Lizzie repeated weakly.

Jane nodded.

"Don't leave me, Janie," Lizzie whispered, squeezing her sister's hand tightly.

Jane squeezed back. "I'll never leave you, Lizzie."

Lizzie nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Jane, did I pass out?"

"You went into shock for a few minutes. They sedated you when you woke up and gave you morphine."

"We're ready to go now, Miss Bennet."

Jane turned to the voice and nodded. Lizzie was surprised to see that it wasn't Will, but an older, even stuffier looking doctor with a white beard. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I'm Dr. Hale. We're going to be taking you into the operating room now. We'll take care of your leg and have you as good as new in no time," he said kindly.

She nodded. Jane walked with her as they carted her off to the operating room, but stopped at the door, whispering, "This is as far as I can go, Lizzie."

Lizzie felt tears finally fall, as her sister pried away her hand and stood still while the doctors took Lizzie the rest of the way. She couldn't help thinking that Jane had promised she wouldn't leave her.

**December 29; 11:29PM**  
"Miss Bennet. You had what is called ischemia, a shortage of the blood supply to an organ, which in this case was your calf muscle. The lack of oxygen and nutrients resulted in tissue damage. We had to remove a part of the lateral head of your gastrocnemius muscle, as well as a small part of your soleus because of the i-"

"Wait a minute. You _removed_ parts of my calf muscle? You just took it out?" she interrupted, alarmed. Lizzie wondered for the hundredth time how it had come to this. How had a simple, innocent trip to eat resulted in her lying in a hospital bed, half an hour after an operation on her leg, with her favorite sister next to her? How had a night out with her favorite sister come to her family waiting outside of her hospital room? How had it come to this doctor telling her he removed parts of her very beloved, very _necessary_, leg?

Dr. Hale nodded. "Yes."

Lizzie waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. So she demanded, "Why?"

"We removed the dead tissue in your leg. You were at risk for infection and other complications if we let your dead tissue just sit there."

"You couldn't save it?" Lizzie asked. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

"Miss Bennet, the damage to your calf was beyond repair. We removed the dead tissue so that we could save the rest of your leg."

"But Will's been looking at my legs for the past two days. He didn't say anything about this," Lizzie argued.

"Dr. Darcy noticed swelling at some point, which is why he allowed you to postpone the stitches. By the time he did stitch up your leg, the swelling had gone down. He said you were losing blood at an alarming rate and sewing your leg up was your best chance of survival, so that's what he did."

"So, he chose to sew up my leg knowing that this could happen?"

"Wounds are a difficult subject," he explained carefully. "Certain wounds have to be closed within a few hours. Other wounds should be left open for up to twenty-four to prevent ischemia, so Dr. Darcy thought that with the swelling of your leg he observed, as well as your refusal of medical advice, it would be best to sew up your leg later, which is what he did."

"But I still have this ischemia thing," Lizzie countered.

"Yes, but you're not dead," the doctor said bluntly. "He stopped your leg from bleeding. Even though we still had to give you blood, you could have lost a lot more had you opted to forgo stitches altogether. You also are free of infection, which is amazing, considering everything your leg has gone through."

"But I'm without some calf muscles."

He nodded.

"How long will it take to heal?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Removing muscle is tricky. It's not done very often," he explained slowly. "The dead muscle we removed will never heal back."

"What?" Lizzie exclaimed as soon as he finished speaking. Never heal back. _Never heal back_. Oh god, oh god, oh _god_. She felt bile begin to rise in her throat, but swallowed it quickly. She shut her eyes. Never heal back. Her muscles would never. Heal. Back.

"Lizzie," Jane pleaded quietly.

Lizzie had forgotten Jane was even there. Jane squeezed her hand, but she ignored her sister and continued staring at Dr. Hale. "How can I dance when I'm missing parts of my muscle?"

"It is possible to work on your surrounding muscles to compensate for the loss of muscle in your calf, but I must warn you that this takes time. Your muscles may never perform the same way again."

"When can I start dancing again?"

Again, he hesitated. "You'll have to be immobile for a while, to give your muscles time to heal. The wound itself also needs to heal. Then you'll need to go through some physical therapy."

"When can I dance again?" Lizzie repeated.

"I would say you're looking at about a few months recovery time including physical therapy, before I'd be comfortable enough to let you dance."

"A few _months_?" Lizzie asked. She felt like he'd punched her in the gut. Months without dancing? She hadn't gone months without dancing since her parents' divorce and their move to New York, and that had been horrible! She quickly calculated it in her head. Her contract was up for renewal in February. Her manager and her mother had been talking about trying to get a higher salary, so there was an appointment to draft a new contract next month. How on earth would they be able to negotiate a higher salary when she was unfit to dance? Would they even want to renew her contract? They had to. She was Elizabeth Bennet, damn it. She was the highest paid principal dancer at NYCB. She sold out shows faster than any other ballet dancer had in decades. They had to renew her contract. They had to let her continue dancing.

"You're young and in good health. It is possible to heal well before the estimated time," he answered slowly, watching her warily. "However, there is also the subject of physical therapy and -"

"It's absolutely certain I'll need physical therapy?" Lizzie asked, interrupting him yet again. Her mind was racing. She could make a deal with NYCB to renew her contract, but pay her less. Or she could use her vacation days and sick days. She'd obviously stay out of the spring shows. She wouldn't be able to do any tours, but she could deal with all that as long as she still had a job, as long as they would still keep her. Anything, as long as she could still dance! Christmas was over, so the busy season was done. She would argue that they wouldn't need her as much. Plus, they had the summer break in June, where she wouldn't have to dance anyway.

"I would say yes, it's absolutely certain," he said, nodding. At her crestfallen look, he added, "But the amount of time you'll need to spend in physical therapy is all dependent on you. Your muscle will be weak, and it'll be a painful process. It really goes on a case-by-case basis. As I said before, you're in good health."

Lizzie chewed her nail, thinking. So all she had to do was let this stupid wound heal, do some physical therapy, and strengthen her muscle. That couldn't take long. She'd always been a fast learner. She'd be able to dance in no time; she was sure of it. All she had to do was convince NYCB that she was worth keeping. Then she could go back to living her fabulous life as a ballet dancer, doing what she loved most. Even if NYCB didn't renew her contract, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Once she got back to form, she'd audition for other companies and any one of them would accept her, right? Right.

At her lack of response, he added, "We decided not to close your would up. We've packed it and will have nurses continue to do dressing changes."

"So all you did was cut out my muscle," Lizzie muttered. She massaged her temples. Sure, she had her legs, but what good was that when she couldn't dance for months? "Thank you, doctor," she said quietly, hoping he'd understand that she was dismissing him.

"Please let me know if you have any other questions, Miss Bennet." He hastily exited the room without a backwards glance.

She looked at Jane when the door closed. Jane had tears in her eyes and she was biting her lip. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie," Jane whispered.

Lizzie squeezed her sister's hand and looked away. She refused to blame Jane for this. It wasn't anyone's fault this happened, not even Will's, though she wanted very much to blame him. It'd be so much easier to blame someone, but Lizzie knew it wouldn't do any good. She forced a smile on her lips and said, "It's not your fault, Janie."

"But Lizzie, I –"

"No, Jane," Lizzie said forcefully. "Don't blame yourself." Jane squeezed her hand back, and Lizzie saw that tears were falling from her sister's face. She couldn't deal with this right now. "Janie. I'm really beat. I'm going to try to get some sleep, okay? Can you make sure no one comes into my room? Oh... and please call Mary and get her to set up something tomorrow?"

Jane nodded. She kissed Lizzie's forehead before quietly getting up from the chair and turning out the light as she left.

Lizzie fell back onto her bed softly. She couldn't feel her leg. She wished she could feel pain because it might have taken her mind away from this gnawing, uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She lay in the bed, listening to the muffled sounds of the busy hospital outside of her room, staring at the ceiling, concentrating on what she would tell NYCB. The first tears fell unnoticed. It wasn't until she was sobbing so hard she almost couldn't breathe that Lizzie realized she was crying. She wiped her eyes and nose furiously with her hands, sniffling loudly. The tears kept coming, and Lizzie couldn't stop.

**December 30; 1:02PM**  
For what felt like the millionth time in the past few days, Lizzie awoke to the sound of voices.

"She's been asleep for so long though," Lydia's voice was saying. "Can't I go back and talk to the boy I met outside?"

"Nice to know you care so much, Lydia," Lizzie said hoarsely. She tried clearing her throat. It was so dry. Before she could even ask, Jane thrust a glass of water in her face. Lizzie smiled at her sister gratefully and drank. She looked around the room and saw her four sisters staring back at her.

"Mary will be here in about an hour, Lizzie," Jane informed her.

Lizzie frowned. "I thought we were doing that meeting tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow, Lizzie," Jane said. "You've been asleep for fourteen hours. I'm going to call the nurse to bring you food. How's your leg?"

"How is _William Darcy_, Lizzie?" Lydia asked, giggling at the foot of Lizzie's bed.

Catie, her twin, nodded in agreement with Lydia. "That's way more important. He came in here earlier to check on you."

"He's so cute, Lizzie. Is he your boyfriend?" Lydia asked, eyes wide with curiosity and eagerness.

"A doctor, Lizzie. Mom will be so proud," Catie added.

"He looks positively yummy with his doctor coat thing," Lydia announced.

Lizzie felt the inevitable migraine coming on, the one that was always rearing its ugly head when she spent too much time in the twins' giggly, teenage presence.

"He's not my boyfriend," Lizzie corrected quietly. "I didn't know he came here."

"He works here," Lydia explained. "And what do you mean he's not your boyfriend? Don't you think he's yummy?"

"I'd tap that in a heartbeat," Catie agreed.

Lizzie slapped her free hand on her face and said, "Please don't ever say that again, Cat."

Jane giggled, hanging up the phone with the nurse. "Will did seem worried about you, Lizzie."

"Probably because he made me get stitches and gave me ischemia," she muttered.

"Isa-what?" Lydia asked.

"That sounds like an STD," Catie stage whispered to Lydia.

"Is stitches code name for-"

"Lydia!" Jane exclaimed, blushing.

"You two are ridiculous," Lizzie announced.

Jane nodded. "And it's not Will's fault, Lizzie."

"I know," she conceded. "But that's the only reason I can come up with."

"Charlie was by earlier," Jane said. "And Charlotte too."

Lizzie nodded. "Will Charlotte be back soon?"

"I think so. She went to work, and she said she'd stop by later this evening."

When a nurse came in with a tray of food for Lizzie, she realized how hungry she was. She began eating her chicken sandwich right away. "Anyone else come by?" she asked, covering her full mouth with her hand.

"Mom did," Lydia said.

"She had to go get some shampoo so she could wash your hair," Catie added.

She frowned. "What's wrong with my hair? Don't they have shampoo here?"

"Their cheap hospital shampoo won't get the sharpie color out of your hair," Lydia informed her, stealing a fry from her plate.

Lizzie picked a few strands of hair up for examination, remembering that boredom had led her to believe coloring her hair was a good idea. "Did mom freak?"

Catie nodded. "Will Darcy looked uncomfortable and left."

"She freaked out in front of Will?"

"Yes, he came in, and stood there for a few minutes. He read your chart. Then Mom came in and started freaking out, so he left."

Lizzie sighed. "Not like he thought very highly of me anyway."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked.

"Nothing," she answered. She popped a few fries into her mouth, before handing Lydia the rest of them. "How long have you guys been here?"

"A few hours," Catie answered. "Jane's been here all night."

Lizzie took her sister's hand and gave her a grateful smile. "Did you have your head looked at?"

Jane nodded. "There's going to be a scar, but it's fine."

"Do you think it's going to hurt your modeling career, Jane?" Lydia asked.

Jane shook her head. "I called my agent, and she said I should be okay. They can airbrush it out."

Lizzie felt a rush of jealousy course through her. If only they could just airbrush her wound so she could dance again.

**December 30; 2:23PM**  
"I don't want a severance package, I want to keep my job!" Lizzie cried. She was in a positively awful mood. Her mother had come in and forced her to lie still as she washed the sharpie color out of her hair, none too gently either. While her mother scrubbed her hair, Lizzie was forced to listen to the latest gossip, mostly about how Charlie and Jane sent what they thought was inconspicuous glances at each other. Now her manager was telling her that NYCB was not only refusing to renew her contract, but they wanted to break ties _now_, not in a few months when her current contract actually ended.

Mary Holbrook, a dark haired woman in her late thirties nodded sympathetically. Mary was a quiet woman. She usually spoke only when spoken to. She wasn't very interesting, in Lizzie's opinion, but she knew how to make deals and get things done, which was exactly why Lizzie hired her.

"I understand that, Lizzie, but in your condition, NYCB sees no reason to continue paying you. They won't pay you if you can't dance."

"I'll only be out for a few months!" she argued. "I'm not asking to be paid while I'm out!"

"The contract we drafted last year specified that no other principal dancer would be given your lead roles in the spring ballet shows. You're promised at least one role be written specifically for you, Elizabeth Bennet, every season. They have to break the contract in order to hire someone to take your place," Mary explained quietly.

"Can't we just add a clause in there that says they can now? What about understudies? If I'd been injured during a rehearsal or performance, an understudy would have been able to take over. They can just act like that's what happened."

"It's not the same, Lizzie. If you had been injured during a performance or rehearsal, you would have still been paid for the time you gave, and they would have paid the understudy less than you. By breaking contract, they have full authority to promote a new dancer to principal, or hire a new one completely, to take your over your roles."

"Can't we refuse to break the contract?" Lizzie asked, grasping for straws.

"You know it doesn't work like that. If one party wants out, then the contract is obsolete."

"There has to be repercussions for that though! They're willing to deal with the fees and stuff involved in breaking contract?"

Mary nodded. "They're being very generous." Lizzie snorted. "They_ are_, Lizzie. They're buying you out of your contract, not just paying fees for breaking the contract. You'll still get the amount you were supposed to, including the estimated percentage entitled to you from what you would have brought in through ticket sales from these shows. The severance package they're giving you is the same one they give to injured dancers that –"

"That they think will never dance again!" Lizzie interrupted.

Mary looked surprised. "Well, yes, Lizzie. That's the point, isn't it?"

"_No_!" Lizzie exclaimed, horrified. "I _will_ dance again, Mary!"

"Lizzie," Mary said carefully. "You're missing muscles in your calf."

"The doctor said I can strengthen the remaining muscles."

"Yes, but is that enough?"

"Of course it's enough! I'll be good as new in no time!"

Mary nodded, but Lizzie had the distinct feeling she was doing it to humor her. "Okay, Lizzie, but, you must understand, NYCB doesn't believe it's going to be possible. I mean, you're not going to be dancing for months. Your doctor said possibly a year."

"What? No, he just said a few months."

"A few months for you to heal, but then you have to retrain your muscles," Mary reminded her.

Lizzie hadn't though about that. It had taken her years to train and become a principal dancer. How long would it take to _re_train? Her lip began quivering, and she felt hot tears build behind her eyes.

"It's okay, Lizzie," Mary assured her quickly. "Like I said, you've got enough money to not have to work for a while, years probably, depending on your spending habits. There's nothing to be worried about."

"I'm not worried about money," Lizzie whispered.

"It's perfectly fine if you are, Lizzie. I'm just saying you don't have to be beca-"

"I'm not," she bit out. "Worried about money, Mary. I'm worried about _dancing_."

"But you won't be dancing for a while, Lizzie."

"Yes, exactly," Lizzie muttered. "I won't be able to dance for God knows how long."

Mary frowned, confused. "But you won't have to. Money's taken care of."

"I don't _care_ about _money_!" Lizzie yelled. "You think I dance for _money_?"

The older woman winced at Lizzie's harsh tone, and she almost felt bad. However, Lizzie couldn't bring herself to feel anything except loss. She'd lost her ability to dance. _Just for the time being_, Lizzie reminded herself. It may take a few months, maybe even a year like they were saying, but she _would_ dance again. She'd show them all how wrong they were.

"I'm sorry," Mary said after a pregnant pause.

"Just get out. We're done here," she said with a tone of quiet finality.

"I-I," Mary began tentatively. "I need you to sign some papers... about the severance."

"Fine," she said, defeated. She signed a few papers, unshed tears blurring her vision slightly. "Don't announce this," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Lizzie," Mary said obediently. "What should I tell the press if they ask? They already know you were in an accident and that you're in the hospital."

"That's all they need to know."

"NYCB might say something," Mary reminded.

"They can say whatever the hell they want," Lizzie said viciously. "I am no longer tied to them."

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," Mary tried.

Lizzie wiped her eyes. "Don't be. I'll be dancing again soon. Then they'll be sorry they ever tried to break contract. They'll be sorry when I sign with another company."

Mary nodded and smiled. Lizzie knew she didn't believe her, but she was glad Mary didn't say it out loud.

"I'll be in touch, Lizzie," Mary promised.

Lizzie watched her leave the room with a scowl. When Mary finally shut the door behind her with a soft click, Lizzie leaned over her bed and vomited.

**December 30; 3:12PM**  
Lizzie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand again, cringing at the smell that was now permeating in the air. She was waiting for a nurse to come in to help her up so she could brush her teeth and for someone to come clean up the mess. _That's twice in twenty-four hours_, she thought to herself. _They're going to start thinking you're bulimic._

She looked up when she heard the door open. Instead of a nurse, she saw a very handsome man with golden brown curls and a killer smile. "Hey, I'm here to clean up vomit?"

Lizzie blushed and nodded. Of course, they'd send a hot guy to come clean up her vomit. That's exactly how she wanted to make acquaintances after all. "Sorry," she apologized as he approached the mess. She was suddenly very glad that her mother washed the color out of her hair and brushed it for her.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You're sick; it's your job to make a mess. It's mine to clean it up."

She laughed. She noticed he had blue eyes. She'd always been a sucker for blue eyes, and his were bright like Jane's. "I'm Lizzie," she said tentatively, very aware that she had vomit breath.

"George Wickham," he returned, offering his hand. She hesitated, as she had just wiped vomit off her face with her own hand. At her hesitation, he said, "Don't worry, my hand's clean. I actually just clocked in about ten minutes ago before they told me to come here."

"Mine isn't," she confessed.

George chuckled. "Alright then. I'll just have to shake your hand some other time."

She smiled at him. "Sure."

"So what are you in for?" he asked as he cleaned. "Besides that lovely leg of yours."

Lizzie looked at her leg, glad that the nurse had changed the dressings when she brought lunch. It wasn't so bloody and gross. Well, still gross. It would always be gross, Lizzie decided sadly. "Just for the leg, I'm afraid." That was mostly true. Her head wound was really just a small cut. It didn't even need bandaging and her hair covered it nicely.

"Sucks," George commented from his crouched position on the ground. "What'd you do?"

"Car accident," she replied, choosing to look ahead, rather than watch him clean up.

He let out a low whistle "Hell of a crash."

She snorted. "You're telling me."

He straightened up and smiled at her. "All finished here."

"Already?" she asked sadly.

He nodded. "Afraid so."

She sighed dramatically. "Alright then."

"Now, I know you want to see me again, Lizzie, but please don't vomit again. You can simply knock over some food or spill your drink."

She laughed, realizing he was flirting with her. "Or you could just come by when you're free. I won't even make you clean anything."

"You shouldn't say that, Lizzie. Then I might never leave. You'll get tired of me."

"Oh, I doubt that," she murmured, losing herself in his gorgeous blue eyes for a moment.


	6. Come On Baby, Give Me A Little More You

**Author's Notes:** Eliza asked me what languages I speak (I'm flattered you actually read my profile, by the way, lol), and since you don't have an account I couldn't reply to you directly. I know Vietnamese, American Sign Language, English, German, and I'm currently on my second year of French.

Thanks to Lizzy, my beta, who makes my writing more coherent and gives me random inspiration.

You guys that review are so awesome. I can't believe I've gotten this many reviews already. Thanks so much!

* * *

**Closer by everymonday  
**

**Chapter Six: Come On Baby, Give Me A Little More You  
**

**---**

**January 13; 8:22PM**_  
Elizabeth Bennet was one of the most respected dancers in the country, arguably the world. Her name sparked instant recognition in the ballet world. She was known for her flawless technique, fluid movements, and perfect feet. However, it was her ability to evoke raw emotions from an audience that made her famous. Her natural talent, combined with early professional training, greatly attributed to her success. Bennet was born in San Diego, California, and began her ballet training at the age of three with private instructor, Dennis Fairchild. He remained her instructor for four and a half years, until her parents' highly publicized divorce brought her to New York. _

_Her mother, Faye Delaney, was a very famous actress from the 70's, but dropped off the Hollywood radar after getting married in what most call a "shot-gun wedding" with Jasper Bennet. They had two children together, Jane and Elizabeth Bennet before divorcing nine years later. A few months after her first divorce was finalized, Delaney married James Hartford, with whom she had twins. Hartford left shortly before the twins were born and had no contact with the Delaneys except for the hefty child support check every month. _

_Bennet rarely spoke of her family, except for her older sister, Jane (of _Elite Models_), whom she called her best friend. Bennet expressed desire to be known for who she was, not where she came from, which is obviously a call to separate herself from her D-List mother and troubled sisters. One must wonder if an absentee father, a self-absorbed mother, and three other sisters to compete with created trouble at home for this young talent, forcing her to turn to ballet to take away her troubles. _

_Dennis Fairchild called Bennet "the perfect pupil: talented beyond belief, thirsty for knowledge, self-disciplined, and a fast learner, even from a young age." He said they remained in contact to this day, more than a decade later, and Bennet frequently sent him tickets to her shows. It seemed that Fairchild was more of a father figure to her than Jasper Bennet. _

_Bennet was offered a place in the School of American Ballet (SAB) after she attended the summer workshop at the age of ten. After graduating from the school with a number of awards and honors, she had numerous job offers, even one from Paris. She chose to stay in New York and go with the New York City Ballet Company, a decision that shocked many. After only a few months, Bennet was promoted from the corps de ballet to soloist. At the age of twenty, she was promoted to principal dancer, a rank she held for four years. She was in over forty productions in her six years at NYCB. She also worked as a guest artist in other companies in the States as well as in Russia and France. Her long time choreographer at NYCB, Peter Martins, called her an "an absolute delight." He claimed that her personality is as amazing as her talent, and to Martins, that is just as important. Bennet was a favorite among choreographers not only because of her undeniable grace and poise, but also because of her ability to keep her feistiness within performances, while still being extremely agreeable during rehearsals. _

_NYCB's ticket sales, which had been at a ten-year low before Bennet became a principal, saw an unbelievable spike after Bennet's opening night as the captivating Odette of Swan Lake, a role she actually only danced in by accident – quite literally. Elizabeth was starring in a smaller performance at the same time, and was an understudy for Marie Neilson. Neilson was injured in a car accident two days before opening night, leaving the role to Bennet. _

_Bennet's performance in Swan Lake, which received rave reviews, sold out in record numbers, and prompted NYCB to open three more shows just to satisfy demand. Bennet brought audiences to tears with her performances. She was hailed for her ability to take on a variety of roles and dancing them with emotion as well as precision. Audiences demanded more Elizabeth Bennet, and NYCB is happy to provide it. She was the highest paid principal dancer at NYCB, and has been for the past two years, thanks to much negotiating from her mother and her manager. _

_Her peers at NYCB have been seen leaving Austen Memorial Hospital, where Bennet is still recovering from the devastating car accident. When asked, most of them express their condolences about her accident, but there is an unspoken eagerness and curiosity in the air. Everyone is wondering who will take her place. NYCB officials have not renewed their contract with Bennet, which ends early this year. This raises questions about not only the severity of her condition, but also her relationship to her (soon to be former) employers, who have previously called her a wonderful asset to the company. _

_The car accident that sliced her calf muscle beyond repair marks a tragic end to what would have been a very promising ballet dancer. It is ironic that a car accident was the catalyst for Bennet's rise, and a car accident would also be her demise. There has been no word from her representatives about what is in store for Bennet. She holds one of the most impressive resumes in the industry, but one must wonder about her value outside of the ballet world. _

_This is often a dilemma for retired or injured ballet dancers. Many find that they have no…_

Will stopped reading, disgusted. Journalists were vile. He felt like he was reading about someone who died, not someone who had just been injured. His eyes scanned the rest of the page. At the bottom, there was a timeline of Elizabeth's life, marking when she'd done certain shows and gotten certain awards. There were a few photographs of her as a child and one that he assumed was her professional headshot. He flipped the magazine closed to see what publication this was. He was met with Elizabeth Bennet as he'd never seen her. Her face was covered with a heavy layer of make up, and her hair was pulled back in a bun. She was balanced on her tiptoes as he'd seen many ballet dancers do; her arms open at a low angle near her sides in an elegant pose. She was wearing a pale blue tutu and white tights. Her eyes were not looking directly at the camera, but at something on her right, laughing. It was a very simple cover and seemed very plain for a ballet magazine. They were probably relying more on their large headline, "Elizabeth Bennet's Past And Future – What's In Store For Her Now?" than their photo to get sales.

Will shook his head. While the article had definitely answered some of his questions, he took it with a grain of salt. He left the magazine on the counter where he found it. It probably belonged to one of the nurses. Many of them had come into Elizabeth's room expressing get-well wishes, much to his annoyance. She was supposed to be getting rest. He wondered why a nurse would even buy _Pointe_ magazine.

He checked on a few of his other patients, before walking into her room. At once, he was assaulted with the overwhelming smell of flowers. They were everywhere, in every shape, size, and hue he could imagine. They varied in stages of life, and he wondered why she didn't throw some of them out. He glanced at the garbage and saw, not flowers, but more magazines and newspapers, many bearing her face.

She didn't look up when he entered, her nose was buried in the same publication that he had just been skimming. Her eyes were narrowed and her brow was furrowed as she read it. He cleared his throat to get her attention, not sure how he should act. This was the first time they'd been alone since they'd left Charlie's.

"Jane and Charlie are in the cafeteria," she said, not looking up from her magazine, facial expression not changing.

"Oh," he replied. Before he could tell her he wasn't looking for them, she made a strange noise, and then tossed the magazine into the garbage with the others. She stared at him expectantly, arms crossed. "Er," he began. "Your leg seems to be healing nicely. How are you?"

She shrugged. "Leg's fine, I guess. It's scabbing." She stopped to make a face. "These people write about me like I'm dead. Doctors took out some of my muscles, but that doesn't mean I'll never dance again. That doesn't mean magazines and newspapers should go publishing that I'm fired from NYCB or that my career is over."

He didn't think it would be wise to tell her that it probably was.

She began rummaging through her pile of papers and magazines, and extracted a newspaper. "This one's calling me the greatest ballet dancer that could have been. Sons of bitches." Elizabeth crumbled the newspaper up as much as she could before throwing it at the wall.

Will went to pick it up - it had landed on some flowers – and put it in the garbage. "What will you do if they're right?" he asked, careful to put the "if" in.

"They're not right. And if they are, I think I will simply die."

He tried to decipher whether or not she was joking, but couldn't. "Surely you are not serious."

"All I want to do is dance. If can't do that, I might as well drop dead." She shrugged.

"That is absurd."

"I'm sure it is – to you." She lifted her chin, challenging him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means I'm sure it does sound absurd to you."

"You just repeated what you said before. Why is it absurd to me and not to others?"

"I'm sure it's probably absurd to others as well, but that's because of the kind of people they are."

"Just because we're not dancers –"

"No. It's not that," she cut him off quickly.

"Then what?"

"What would you do if you couldn't cut anymore?"

"What?" He was confused by her sudden subject change.

"If you found out you couldn't do surgery anymore."

"Because of my hands?"

"Sure," she tried to move to reach a glass of water on the table, but it was out of her reach. Will handed it to her, and moved the table so it was closer to her for next time. "Thanks."

"If I couldn't cut anymore," he sat down on the chair next to her bed, watching her drink water. "It wouldn't be the end of the world to me. It would be many years and money wasted on training, but I'm sure I could find something else."

"That's why."

"What?"

"That's why it's absurd to you."

"What?" he asked again.

She sighed and put her glass back on the table. "Your profession is just that, Mr. Darcy. A profession. My profession is who I am. I am a dancer. I can't live without being a dancer."

"Many Americans define themselves by their professions. It doesn't mean you can't find another profession," he reasoned.

"I can't."

"I'm sure you can. I know you're not qualified in much besides dancing –"

"Been reading the magazines, huh?" she cut him off again, sneering.

He ignored her jab. "You're young. You can go to college, you could perhaps be a dancer instructor or work an office job in a ballet studio if you wanted to stay in that world. There are many options."

"Be in the ballet world, but not _a part_ of it?" She shook her head. "You don't understand.

"Explain then."

She shook her head again. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't," she answered. As Will looked into her eyes, he realized just how _sad _they were.

"Why not?"

"Because." She ran a hand through her messy hair, and he saw her wince when she accidentally touched her head wound, which, he noticed, had also scabbed. "You wouldn't get it."

"Try."

"You don't understand because you've never loved anything the way I love ballet."

"I love many –"

"As much as I love ballet?" she asked. "I have been dancing for two decades of my life. It's not about how much time and money I've invested in it. It's not about the fact that I have other options. It's not about needing a new profession. It's not about the fact that I am still young and can do other things. It's not about any of that. If I can't dance again, it means never feeling butterflies in my stomach during a leap. It means no more opening night jitters. It means no more satisfaction when I nail an entire routine. It means no more _dancing_. No more _feeling_. No more flying. Ballet is _part _of me. I didn't just lose parts of my muscle, okay? If losing part of my muscle means that I can't dance anymore, then it means I've lost a part of _myself_, of my_ soul_. I know that I'm lucky that my leg was saved, but if I can't dance again, you might as well cut off both my legs. I don't want them if I can't use them to dance."

Will swallowed, not sure what to say. Honestly, he had no idea how she was feeling. She seemed to love ballet more than she loved most people. He could not say the same about his profession. He enjoyed it, sure. He liked helping people. He liked making a difference in people's lives. A scalpel in his hand made him feel powerful. An M.D. had come easily. Every cut and stitch he made came easily. He was good at his job, and he liked it. That was as far as it went for him though. He would not _die_ if he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't boast loving any one thing so much that he'd die if he couldn't have it anymore.

Elizabeth Bennet was crazy. That was the only explanation for it.

Luckily, Charlie and Jane returned to the room a few moments later.

"Oh, hello, Will," Jane said, smiling.

"Shouldn't you be working?" Charlie asked.

Will stood up and moved closer to the door. "Interns are doing all my work right now. I'm waiting for some x-rays." He briefly wondered if Charlie loved acting so much he would die if he couldn't do it anymore. _Probably not_, he decided. Charlie loved everything, so he'd find something else quickly.

"Did you get me anything, Jane?" Elizabeth asked.

Will watched Jane give her sister a plastic container of what looked like fruit salad and a bag of cashews.

Jane looked at Will. "How are you? I haven't seen you since New Year's."

Will cringed at the reminder of New Year's. Charlie and Caroline had begged him, large Bingley blue eyes and jutted lower lips included. It, quite frankly, looked ridiculous on them both, Charlie being a grown man, and Caroline having very thin lips which he was used to seeing in a sneer. He had agreed to go just to make them stop the begging. Caroline had it in her mind that he would be attending as her _date_. Throughout the night, she found a myriad of silly reasons to be cross with him, including but not limited to: wearing a tie that did not match her gown, not offering to get her a drink upon arrival, not offering to get her a drink when she nagged him about not getting her drink upon arrival, having no desire to dance or mingle with her, and correcting her every time she introduced him as her date. Finally, her hints that she wanted to kiss him at midnight resulted in him hiding in the bathroom. Yes, William James Darcy III rang in the new year in a stall in the men's bathroom. "Yes," he answered. "I'm well. I've been quite busy."

"You're always busy, Will," Charlie said. "You practically live here."

He shrugged. "Comes with the job."

"Thanks for convincing Jane to go to the New Year thing with you, Charlie," Elizabeth said.

Charlie smiled. "No need to thank me. It was with purely selfish intents."

Will wanted to slap the lovesick look off of Charlie's face. They'd been "official" for a week now, and the poor sod looked like he was going to offer her an engagement ring any day now.

"Selfish or not, Janie needed a night away from here," Elizabeth said.

Charlie shrugged, but Jane protested, "I want to be here with you, Lizzie."

Elizabeth frowned. "It's unhealthy how much you're here, Jane."

"You too, Will," Charlie joked.

"I'm supposed to be here," Will argued. "It's my job."

"Eighty hour work weeks sound awful to me," Charlie confessed.

"You're like Lizzie was with the studio," Jane nodded. Then she blushed, horrified, as she realized she had accidentally poked the proverbial elephant in the room and an awkward pause settled on the group.

"Like I _will_ be again, once they clear me to dance," Elizabeth said finally, her voice rich with determination and stubbornness.

Will saw Jane quickly give Elizabeth a very wary, very worried glance, then look away before she noticed.

Charlie cleared his throat. "I heard you get to leave here soon. Is that right?"

"Tomorrow," she answered. "I can walk and stand for more than a few minutes without being in pain or leaving a bloody trail. It's really quite marvelous," she added sarcastically. "They've now deemed me capable of taking care of myself in my own apartment."

"The doctor says you're healing ahead of schedule," Jane said encouragingly.

Elizabeth nodded, and then changed the subject. "When do you leave for Milan?"

"February 17th, I think. Fashion Week there begins on the 19th," Jane answered.

Will had forgotten that Jane was a model. As he watched her now, sitting in casual clothes on her sister's bed, face bare of makeup and hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck, she only looked like a worried sister. He saw Charlie was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, half covered by flowers, and realized he was the only one standing. He looked around for more seating, but couldn't find any, so he remained standing, feeling out of place.

Will's pager conveniently went off, so he excused himself hastily to go find out what the latest 911 was, hoping it wasn't his patient in 209. He had been working with Dr. Hoyle all last night to save the bugger's heart.

**January 14; 12:56AM**  
Will groaned as his head hit the pillow in the on-call room. It had been 209, damn it. A complication that they had to go back and fix. Hours later, he was exhausted. He tried to remember the last time he'd slept, and couldn't. _Such a charmed life you lead, Dr. Darcy_, he thought sarcastically.

**January 14; 3:33AM**  
The door opened with a loud clang, effectively disturbing his slumber. Two interns came in, attached to each other at the mouth. "Bloody fucking hell. This isn't Grey's Anatomy! There's someone in here. Go find a supply closet, and leave the on-call room for people who sleep!" he cried grumpily from the bed, voice muffled by the pillow. His glare was not quite as threatening from his position on his stomach, feet hanging off the bed that was too short for him, but it did the job.

They gave him hasty apologies before leaving, both red faced and the male's lips covered in the female's lipstick. _Lipstick_, Will thought, not quite believing it. His last thought before falling back asleep was that people didn't need lipstick. It just made a mess. Elizabeth Bennet didn't wear lipstick. That was nice.

**January 14; 4:45AM**  
His pager went off. CODE BLUE.

_Bloody hell_, it better not be 209.

With a groan, he pushed himself up and sluggishly tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes before leaving the on-call room with a longing glance.

**January 14; 9:59AM**  
"Hey, Will," Charlie said.

Will turned around. He'd just walked right past Charlie without a glance. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.

"What do you mean? I just got here," Charlie said, looking at him quizzically.

Will looked at his watch and cursed. It was ten in the morning. After rounds, he'd been called into surgeries for three bloody hours. Three literally bloody hours, not three British fucking hours, mind you. They'd lost two patients who had bled out. They saved one. He sighed. At least he still had 209. "Sorry. Lost track of time," he explained.

Charlie nodded sympathetically. "Rough night?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. "I just came from surgery, in case you couldn't tell," he gestured to his bloody, again, literally bloody, scrubs. "And I didn't get much sleep in the on-call room because some idiot interns came in and woke me up."

"Did they need something from you?" Charlie asked.

"No," Will answered, shaking his head. "They wanted to have sex."

Charlie's eyes widened. "With you?"

"No!" Will exclaimed, blanching at the idea. "With each _other_!"

Charlie visibly relaxed a bit. "Oh. I thought they only did that in _my_ line of work."

"Me too!" Will said.

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them that this wasn't Grey's Anatomy and to get the fuck out."

Charlie guffawed. "Did you really? Oh, Will. I didn't know you watched that show! You're always complaining about how busy you are!"

Will reeled, insulted. "I don't watch that show!"

"How do you know they have sex in on-call rooms then?"

"Your sister watches it!"

"That doesn't explain why _you_ know that they have sex in on-call rooms."

"I arrived at your house early one day, and Caroline made me watch it with her."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, Will. You're always saying she makes you do things. She can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

He glared. "You know very well I can't be rude to your sister. It's all for your sake, mate. I didn't want to watch the show, you know. It's awfully unrealistic. Attendings having sex with interns in on call rooms and all these crazy procedures they get to do. It's all very ridiculous."

"Well, next time Caroline _makes _you watch this_ ridiculous_ show, you have my permission to tell her no."

Will wanted to punch Charlie and his damn word emphasis and air quotes. Instead he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't we just go through this?" Charlie asked with a grin.

He had a sneaking suspicion that a certain blonde was the reason for his friend's overly happy (even more than usual) and playful demeanor, but said nothing of it. "No, I asked you what you were _still _doing here before. Now I'm asking why you're here _again_, when you were here twelve hours ago."

"Jane's checking Lizzie out and bringing her home. I just came along because I'm not working today."

"I see."

"Will, no offense, but you smell."

"It's the blood!"

"Why didn't you change? You don't have to wear that all day, do you? Don't you have to work until tonight?"

"I was on my way to do that before you stopped me," he said, trying to inconspicuously sniff himself.

"Well, I give you permission to go. But you should come over there for dinner tonight. You're off, right?"

He nodded. "I'll try, Charlie, but I'm very tired. I might fall asleep during dinner."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "You always say that."

"Well, last time I fell asleep waiting for dinner, and then was stuck with you for two bloody days."

"Whatever. Just call me when you get off work, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," Will answered as he walked away.

"I can't believe you told them it wasn't Grey's Anatomy," Charlie called after him, laughing again.

"It's not!" he called back, not looking over his shoulder.

"That's probably why you smell so bad! I work in TV, Will. I never smell!"

**January 14; 12:22PM**  
As he ate his lunch, in freshly laundered scrubs, with a few of his coworkers, Will briefly toyed with the idea of life being like Grey's Anatomy. It'd certainly be more interesting. He would get to do about thirty times more surgeries than he got to do now, and about thirty times less paper work. His interns would be competent and reasonably attractive, and he'd still have a social life. Perhaps he'd even be the most respected resident, the one everyone looked up to. Then he realized he knew all this from one episode of Grey's Anatomy, so he toyed with the idea of killing himself, or Caroline.

**January 14; 2:20PM**  
Will checked in on his patient in room 209 quickly. He was sleeping. Will checked his charts and made sure everything was in order. The man had suffered a major heart attack, and then had some complications later. He was alone. He had no family except for a younger sister who was flying in to see him later. Will forced himself not to believe this would be him someday. It wouldn't be him. He was in good health, he had a good diet, and he exercised by running around this damn hospital. He would not end up like 209.

**January 14; 5:55PM**  
Will was finishing up his paperwork when Charlie texted him. "Dinner?"

He wanted to say no. He wanted to go home and sleep, but guilt wracked his mind. He hadn't seen Charlie outside of the hospital in a week or so, when he'd come over to have drinks and watch TV (where Charlie mainly talked about Jane). They were both busy. Him with work, as always, and Charlie with work…and Jane. It was guilt that made his fingers text a simple yes back to his friend, though his tired eyes and exhausted body objected.

**January 14; 7:41PM**  
"Oh, finally," Charlie said as a greeting when he answered the door.

Will frowned. "Nice to see you too, Charlie."

"I just thought you'd be here sooner," Charlie explained, walking with him into the kitchen. Jane was chopping vegetables while Elizabeth stole carrots from Jane's neat pile.

"Hey, Will," Jane greeted. He nodded to both of them. Elizabeth gave him a tentative curve of her lips before looking away. He watched Jane slap her sister's hand when Elizabeth tried to reach for another carrot. "There will be nothing for the salad if you keep eating, Lizzie."

She rolled her eyes. "So bossy."

It was strange seeing her again here, he decided. Last time he'd seen her, she'd been stuck on the couch for most of the duration. Today, she was dressed in lounge pants that actually fit her. He noticed they didn't have any ridiculous words on the back like_ Juicy_ or _Team Pink_ like the ones Caroline had let her borrow. They were just a simple dark blue color. Her plain white blouse had two different colored stains on it, and her socks didn't match. She was very underdressed compared to the rest of them. Even her sister was wearing a tailored gray pants and a fitted pink sweater.

Elizabeth Bennet, Will decided, was unremarkable. It wasn't just the clothes or the fact that she stood next to her sister. She was reasonably attractive, sure. Her hair was a nice shade of brown, and if she would tame it more, rather than let it fall in a tangled mess on her shoulders, it would look nice. Her porcelain skin was flawless. Her facial features came together pleasantly, but not _beautifully_.

"How are you, Will?" Jane asked, not looking up from her vegetable chopping.

"Fine," he said. Elizabeth turned her hazel eyes to him. They looked rather brown today, but bright. Her long, dark lashes made them look bright, he supposed. Her eyes were beautiful, he admitted.

"I thought I heard you, Will," Caroline said, coming into the kitchen with a wide smile. "Charlie didn't tell me you were coming for dinner, I would have worn something nicer." She was already overdressed with her short, strapless black dress and clunky heels. Will saw Charlie give Caroline a strange look, which he took to mean that he _had_ told Caroline that Will was coming.

Will frowned. "Hello, Caroline."

She didn't acknowledge the Bennets, but opened the refrigerator with a forceful pull. When she let it go, the door of it hit Elizabeth's right side. He saw her wince slightly, but she simply moved from her position behind the refrigerator door and walked out of the kitchen without a word.

"Lizzie," Jane called.

"I'm fine, Jane," she replied, not looking back.

Charlie was glaring at Caroline, who was ignoring him. Jane looked torn.

"Where's my soymilk, Charlie?" Caroline asked.

Charlie let out a slow breath. "I think you drank it all, didn't you? There's regular milk."

"Disgusting, Charlie. Cow milk has about a thousand different hormones we don't need, you know. It makes you fat and gives you diseases."

"You're the only one that hates it."

"Soymilk is much healthier for you. It has no cholesterol or fat."

"Fat free milk doesn't have fat either," Charlie argued.

"Soymilk isn't fat free anyway, Caroline," Will said.

Caroline frowned, but let the subject drop, thankfully. She turned to Jane. "Thanks so much for replacing all my clothes. You didn't have to."

"It was no problem, Caroline," Jane replied.

"You're such a doll," Caroline cooed.

Will was getting annoyed. He left to the living room to hopefully catch a nap before dinner was ready. He found Elizabeth sitting on the loveseat watching TV. When he took a seat on the couch, she offered him the remote. He declined.

"So how's your leg?" he asked, cringing when he realized it was probably a bad topic.

"Fine," she replied, not looking at him.

"I've never seen a ballet before," he tried again.

"You probably wouldn't like it," she said, still not looking at him.

Will couldn't decide if she was being purposely difficult. She should really be happy he was even trying to make conversation. It's not like he did this with everyone.

"Chicken's in the oven and should be ready in a few minutes," Charlie announced, joining them in the living room, Caroline and Jane right behind him.

"Charlie, I'm telling you, you should throw a 1920's party," Caroline was saying. "I've got a flapper outfit that I only got to wear once last Halloween. I'd like to get some more use out of it."

"You're throwing a party?" Will asked. He hated parties.

"She wants me to throw one. I haven't thrown one in a while," Charlie answered.

"You were a flapper for Halloween?" Jane asked Caroline.

"Of course not! I was Daisy!"

"Was Daisy your strip-err… your flapper name?" Lizzie asked. She got a tight-lipped glare from both Caroline and Jane.

"Oh, Elizabeth. Of course you wouldn't get it. I was Daisy from the wonderful novel _The Good Gatsby_."

"_The _Great_ Gatsby_?" Will asked in disbelief.

"Well, it wasn't that good, but I suppose," she answered, sitting down next to Elizabeth.

Will's look of disbelief deepened. "That's the title of the book."

"What is?"

"_The Great Gatsby_."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd read it, Will," Caroline said airily.

"Wasn't this the book you asked me to buy you the Spark Notes version of?" Charlie asked tentatively.

"So I could understand it better!" Caroline said defensively.

"Nothing wrong with that," Elizabeth said. Caroline gave her a rare smile, then turned to look at Will.

He shrugged. "I didn't know you liked to read, Caroline."

"Of course I do!"

"Daisy wasn't a flapper though," Elizabeth pointed out.

"But she lived in the 1920's!" Caroline argued.

"That wasn't the only job in the 1920's, you know," Lizzie said.

Caroline huffed, the conversation obviously not going the way she'd hoped. "Whatever. As I was saying, Charlie should have a 1920's party, so I could wear my flapper outfit." Then her blue eyes lit up and she said to Will, "You could go as Gatsby!"

"No," Will replied.

Caroline pouted. "Why not?"

"For many reasons, Caroline."

"Tell me some."

"It's not an accurate portrayal of the book."

Elizabeth snickered. "Sure it is, Will. In the book, Gatsby and Daisy are _in love_!"

Will was positively horrified at this suggestion, but before he could make it verbally known, Caroline agreed with Elizabeth by nodding her head emphatically. "It's such a romantic story."

"That's what you got out of it? That it was a romantic story?" Elizabeth asked, incredulous.

"Of course."

"Did you_ read_ the book?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course I did!"

"Did you read the Spark Notes?" Will asked. "To explain the book to you? It's not a romance book." He saw Charlie and Jane smile at each other and head back into the kitchen, leaving them with Caroline.

Caroline looked surprised by the turn of events. "It is romantic," she pouted. "Gatsby loves Daisy, and she loves him."

"On the surface it is very romantic," Will conceded.

"But crack the surface and you see that Fitzgerald was portraying the 1920's as an epoch of decay in moral values," Elizabeth continued.

Will couldn't help but be impressed by her comment, though he kept his face neutral.

"You're just saying that so Charlie won't have a 1920's party."

"Um, Charlie's not in here anymore, so no, I assure you, using a lovely piece of literature to suit my desires is not on my agenda. You might want to check yours though."

Caroline glared at the both of them and stood up quickly. With a huff, she left the room, leaving only Will and Elizabeth.

"I can't believe I just had a book discussion with Caroline Bingley," she muttered.

* * *

_Review if you liked it. Review if you didn't, and tell me why. :]_


	7. Barely Even Knows Him But If She Could

**Author's Notes: **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or PMed me (especially geril, I'm terribly sorry I told you it'd be ready by the weekend lol).I'm so, so, _so_ sorry for taking so long with this chapter! I can't believe it's been over two weeks! This chapter was terribly difficult to write for some reason, and I had a lot of stuff to do for school. My apologies! All I have to offer you is this super long chapter (almost 8,000 words!!!!). I rewrote it several times, and my beta edited it twice! I'm even staying up late to upload it lol. So I truly hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. :]

Also, I hate that the site thinks my chapter titles are too long (even though they kind of are lol). So just fyi, the real chapter titles as I intend them to be are in the chapter, not the drop down bar.

Yes, yes, I'll stop rambling so you can read.

* * *

**Closer by everymonday  
**

**Chapter Seven: Barely Even Knows Him But If She Could See Inside  
**

**---**

**January 19; 8:42AM**  
Lizzie quickly covered up a yawn with the back of her hand and glanced at the clock on the wall as she passed it. She was about fifteen minutes early. She rubbed her tired eyes for a moment, wishing she'd taken Jane up on her offer for coffee this morning. She had been used to waking up this early, but unfortunately, the last few weeks had spoiled her.

She didn't like the way her shoes squeaked on the tile floor of the quiet hospital. She tried walking slowly, but it just prolonged the inevitable. She stopped abruptly to look down at her shoes. They were just black ballet flats she'd received as a gift a few months ago. She had no idea why they were squeaking. Perhaps it was the floor. Maybe it was a sign she should have stuck to lounge pants and sneakers. She scowled. She was tired of lounge pants. She'd actually gotten dressed for her appointment today. Sure, it was just a pair of soft, old jeans that didn't irritate her scabbing leg, a white tank top and black cardigan, and a deep green scarf. It was simple, but it was better than the lounge pants that she'd been living in lately. Lizzie fumbled with the buttons of her black coat as she walked, hoping to distract her fingers.

Her head itched, and she was trying not to scratch it. It would irritate the scab. Last time she'd scratched, her fingers had come back bloody as she'd picked the scab off before it was ready. She adjusted the oversized beret on her head and continued walking, hoping no one would talk to her today. She wasn't in a good mood. She didn't want to deal with friendly, happy nurses and receptionists today.

She stared at her feet as she walked towards the elevator, avoiding eye contact and not at all looking forward to another physical therapy session.

A man ran right into her, stepping on her injured foot. The cut there was still healing, so it hurt like the devil. She bit back a cry of pain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss."

She nodded in acknowledgment and was preparing to limp away, but he grabbed her arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied through gritted teeth. "Thanks."

"Did I hurt your foot?" he persisted.

Lizzie stood her full height, staring down at him. He was about three inches shorter than her with light brown hair that seemed to be receding a bit, small brown eyes, and a genuinely worried expression. She sighed. "You stepped on my foot that already has a severe wound on it."

"May I inspect it?" he asked.

She wondered why he was so persistent. "No. It's quite alright."

"I'm perfectly certified. I'm a physical therapist, you see," he explained.

"I already have one of those," she sighed, not wanting to be reminded of the morning ahead of her.

His eyes lit up. "Oh! Do you really? What for?"

"My leg." Lizzie answered simply, scowling.

"You seem to be walking fine though."

She wondered what kind of physical therapist this guy was, asking people their business and making assumptions. Maybe he was one of those creepy stalkers that pretended to be helpful then dragged you into a back alley to rape you and steal your money and your dignity. She eyed the emergency exit furtively just in case, quickly calculating how fast she would be able to run for it. Her therapist did say not to run…but this was a dire emergency.

"Miss? Are you okay? Did you hear me?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered, noticing that his hand was still on her arm. It wasn't too tight or threatening, but maybe he was lulling her into a false sense of security.

"I'm Collin Perry," he said, taking his hand off her arm to offer it to her.

She looked at him warily. Maybe this was his first time trying to kill someone. Maybe he didn't know that he wasn't supposed to introduce himself. "Eli," she stopped, not wanting to give her real name. "Za," she finished lamely, cursing her slow mind for not giving a better fake name. "Eliza," She repeated with more conviction, not taking his hand. Instead, she took advantage of the fact that his hand wasn't on her and started walking towards the elevator.

"And what is it that you do, Miss Eliza?" he asked, looking her up and down.

She cringed, not liking the way his eyes roamed her body. "I'm a dancer."

"A dancer!" he exclaimed. "I've never met a dancer before."

Lizzie made a noncommittal noise in response, trying to think of a polite way to get away from him. She pressed the up button on the elevator and waited.

"What kind of dancer?"

"Ballet," she answered, looking at the elevator numbers longingly, wishing they'd move faster.

"Ballet! Oh, my employer, Ms. Catherine de Bourgh, simply adores ballet! She loves all the fine arts, really."

"Erm," Lizzie began, not quite sure how to respond. "That's nice."

"I'm sure she'd really like you," he said, nodding his head, eyes studying her in that creepy fashion again. Lizzie had a very distinct feeling that she was being checked out by a pervert.

The elevator doors finally opened with a quiet _bing_. "I really must get going now," she announced, looking at her wrist as if there was a watch there. "I have a physical therapy appointment."

"Oh! On the sixth floor? I have to go there myself!" he said, stepping into the elevator with her.

_Oh, god. Here it comes,_ she thought. _He's going to try to knock me unconscious now._ She mentally went through all the things she'd learned about self-defense. The elbow was the sharpest part of your body. Kick out taillights if she was put in a trunk? Was that right? _For god sake's, Lizzie, you live in New York,_ she scolded herself. _How do you not know this?_

She reached for the number six button, but he stopped her. "Oh, no, Miss Eliza!" he cried. "Allow me." He pressed the button and gave her a grin, as if he just did her a huge favor and she should be eternally grateful she didn't have to push the damn button. The doors of the elevator closed, effectively trapping her in with this Collin Perry and awkward conversation.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for the first few floors, humming to himself.

He didn't seem very threatening at this point, but Lizzie kept her guard up.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly, just when Lizzie thought she'd be able to enjoy a nice semi-quiet elevator ride

"Thirty," she lied, hoping an older age would make her less of a target.

"I'm thirty-two," Collin replied, as if she'd asked.

Luckily, the elevator doors opened and Lizzie was saved from having to respond. She stepped out and walked towards the physical therapy office. He followed her. Lizzie groaned, wondering what she'd done to deserve this. Hadn't karma paid her back in full with this stupid wound? Why add a creeper to the mix?

"Do you plan to stop dancing any time soon?" he asked, walking along side her. "To settle down and have a family?"

"No."

"You're injured! You could stop now and no one would judge you," he said.

She sighed. She sped up her pace, despite the pain that was beginning to develop in her leg. When she got to the receptionist, she said, "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Bennet. I have an appointment at nine?"

The blonde receptionist looked up at her with a smile. "Yes, Dr. Hays is ready for you. Go right on in."

Lizzie nodded gratefully and walked quickly to Dr. Hays's office. She knocked on the door, and while she waited, she heard the receptionist say, "Oh, Mr. Perry. I'm not authorized to give out patient information."

**January 19; 11:55AM**  
Lizzie walked out of the office on very tired legs, glad Collin Perry was nowhere to be seen. She took her hair out of its ponytail and ran her fingers through it. It was slightly wet. She grimaced. She stared at her wet hands for a moment, wondering how these tasks that had come so easily to her a month ago now made her break into a sweat.

"Hey, Liz."

She was about to tell the person that she hated being called Liz, but then she saw the person was George Wickham. One look at his handsome face and baby blue eyes convinced her that he could call her anything he wanted.

"Hey, George." She smiled.

"I just got called to this floor. You didn't throw up again, did you?"

She blushed, remembering the first time he'd seen her. "No," she replied. "Not me this time."

He laughed. "Good. You're looking a lot better than before."

"Well, last time you saw me, I had vomit everywhere."

He laughed again. "Yes, that is true. How's your leg?"

Lizzie hated this question. "Fine."

He nodded. "Imagine my surprise when I went to your room to visit you, and there was an old lady in there."

"Did you really come visit me?"

"Yep. But like I said, there was an old lady there. She had an injured leg too. I thought maybe you aged fifty years."

"You're a smart one." She laughed.

He grinned at her. "Maybe I was just really hoping it was you. Old lady Liz is better than no Liz, right?"

Lizzie felt herself blush again. "You're quite a charmer."

"I try," he replied, not missing a beat.

Did his dimples have to be so damn adorable? Did his eyes have to shine so nicely? Did his voice have to have such a lovely baritone sound? She sighed and pushed hair out of her face, more for something to do than out of necessity.

George's pager went off, and he winced. "Well, as much as I'd love to stand here and talk to a pretty girl, I have to get going." He held up the pager. "Duty calls."

Lizzie nodded. "I'll see you around?"

He smiled another charming smile. "Of course."

**January 19; 2:39PM**  
"His name's George. He works at the hospital. He's really cute, Char. He's got these gorgeous blue eyes. They're almost as pretty as Jane's," Lizzie told her friend. "He also has-"

"Excuse me, waitress? I'm ready to order now," a man at the next booth called. Charlotte gave Lizzie an apologetic smile and walked away.

Lizzie nodded as she watched her friend attend to her other table, wondering if she'd be in this situation soon too. Seven months ago, Charlotte had sustained a minor ankle sprain and she was ordered to stay off of it for six weeks. When the six weeks were up, Charlotte tried dancing again, but complained that her ankle still wasn't feeling right, so she took another few weeks off. This continued for two months and when her contract ended, the company refused to renew it. Charlotte, out of a job and a steady income, took up a waitressing job as a temporary means of paying for rent and groceries. It was supposed to be temporary until she could make DVDs to send out to get auditions to other ballet companies. It was supposed to be temporary, but seven months after the injury and four and a half months after her contract ended, Lizzie had yet to see her friend in the ballet studio.

Lizzie let out a quiet sigh. She wouldn't be like Charlotte, she decided. As soon as they cleared her to dance, she'd be back in the studios. She had the best physical therapist in New York, and she'd hire a personal trainer and ballet coach soon. She would do everything she possibly could to dance again. She'd never allow herself to be a waitress like Charlotte. Lizzie swallowed her guilt, knowing she shouldn't judge Charlotte like this. Their circumstances were different. She could only expect so much from her friend.

"Sorry about that, Lizzie," Charlotte said, wiping her wet hands on her apron. "He had a really obscure order that took forever to put in and then it was my turn to take out the trash."

Lizzie nodded. "It's fine."

"So, you were saying about George? He works at the hospital?"

"Oh," Lizzie said, frowning. She'd forgotten they were even talking about the attractive man. "Yeah. He's not a doctor though."

"Nurse?" Charlotte asked.

Lizzie shook her head. "He's a janitor."

Charlotte frowned. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Well, it's not like I plan on marrying him. He's cute. I like to talk to him." Lizzie shrugged.

"I guess," her friend replied skeptically. "That would bother me. Any guy I date has to have a respectable career."

_You don't have a respectable career,_ Lizzie thought bitterly. She bit her tongue and swallowed the words. "Have you made your audition DVDs yet?" she asked instead.

Charlotte's face darkened. "No, not yet. I don't really have time."

"You don't have time?" Lizzie asked incredulously.

"Well, I have to work all the time," Charlotte gave as an excuse.

"Maybe when I get cleared to dance, we can make our DVDs together," Lizzie tried.

"Maybe," the older brunette replied vaguely. "I'll be right back. Let me check on my other table."

Lizzie nodded again, recognizing this as Charlotte's need to escape the topic. She watched her go talk to the man at the other table for a minute before disappearing into the kitchens. She couldn't help but feel annoyed at her friend, her friend who was perfectly _able _to dance, but didn't seem to _want_ to.

She took one last bite of her neglected salad, not very hungry anymore.

Charlotte came back a moment later with a small smile. "So how was the rest of your day before seeing George?" she asked, acting as if the previous conversation hadn't happened.

"It was fine. I met this really creepy guy," Lizzie replied, giving in, deciding she shouldn't nag her friend.

"Really? Where?"

"Before my appointment. He stepped on my foot. He could have just apologized and left, but then he kept talking to me."

"About what?"

"Random stuff. He said he was a physical therapist and that he'd never met a dancer. Apparently his employer really likes ballet and would like me."

"Who's his employer?"

"I don't know. De something."

"De something?" Charlotte repeated, amused.

"Well, I just remember that part." She pushed her plate away, figuring it was better to stop now than make herself sick on lettuce.

"What else did he say?"

"He asked me how old I was. I lied and said thirty."

Charlotte guffawed. "Thirty? Really? Lizzie, you don't look older than twenty-five. You still get carded sometimes."

Lizzie smiled. "I thought he was creepy! I didn't want him to rape me or something!"

"So you thought he'd be unwilling to rape a thirty year old?"

"Hey!" Lizzie cried. "I didn't want to seem young and vulnerable."

Charlotte shook her head. "You are so ridiculous."

"No! He's ridiculous," she replied, still smiling. "He asked me how old I was, and then asked if I was planning on settling down and having a family sometime. Then he-"

"Well, you are thirty. High time to settle down, don't you think?" Charlotte interrupted.

"Then he talked about how he was thirty something," Lizzie continued, ignoring her friend's sarcasm. "He said it was time for _him_ to settle down, and then just _stared_ at me."

"Sounds like he wanted a trophy wife."

"What? You think so?"

"Sure. He was testing you out."

"Ew, gross, Char."

"I call 'em as I see 'em, Lizzie."

"Well, don't." Lizzie scowled. "Trophy wives are so creepy."

"Creepy?" Charlotte laughed. "You still can't get over Stepford Wives, huh?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Hey. Did Jane tell you about the party?"

"Yeah, she called me a few nights ago. Why's she throwing a party? Doesn't she have to go to Milan soon?

"Yeah. She's worried about me." She rolled her eyes. "The NYCB Gala is coming up. That's when they'll announce who will be replacing me. Jane wants to throw a party to get my mind off of that," she explained. "Jane worries I'll get depressed if I don't have a party to get dressed up for."

"Your older sister is sickeningly nice," her friend commented.

Lizzie nodded in agreement. "It's not even necessary. I don't care." Charlotte looked at her skeptically, but she ignored it. "Jane would love an excuse to throw one last party and show off her apartment anyway."

"Oh, yeah. You guys are moving in together, right? Are you packed up yet?"

"I still have a while." Lizzie grinned.

"Jane's going to kill you if you're not packed up soon."

"Jane can't kill me. She's too nice."

"Still," Charlotte reasoned. "Your lease ends in a less than two weeks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm going to put most of my stuff in storage, then stay with Jane. Her lease doesn't end until March, so we won't be moving into the new place until she gets back from Milan."

"Is the new place bigger than Jane's apartment now?"

Lizzie nodded. "If you can believe that."

Charlotte had an unreadable expression on her face. "How are you going to be able to pay rent?"

"For now, severance package, I suppose," Lizzie replied. "Then I'll eventually start dancing again."

Her friend nodded. She took Lizzie's abandoned plate and said she'd be back.

Lizzie frowned, not appreciating Charlotte walking away every time they got to an uncomfortable topic. She reached for her purse, rummaging for her phone so she could check the time. She hoped Charlotte would come back with the check. Lizzie felt like getting out of there and taking a walk.

Charlotte came back and handed Lizzie the check. "You didn't want dessert or anything, did you?"

"No." Lizzie smiled. "So, you are coming to Jane's party right? I'm thinking about inviting George."

"I'll see if I can get someone to cover my shift."

"Oh, Char, you have to come. I haven't seen you outside of your work or the hospital in ages."

"I know. Let's have lunch sometime soon, yeah?"

Lizzie nodded. "When are you free?"

"I'll check my schedule," Charlotte said.

Lizzie opened her mouth to reply, but a man in the back called, "Lucas! I need to talk to you!"

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but Lizzie chewed her lip. "Did I get you in trouble?"

"I'm always in trouble," Charlotte mumbled as she walked away.

Lizzie waited for her friend for about five minutes before growing bored. She threw a twenty on the table and left before Charlotte could come out and reject the large tip.

**January 24; 7:34PM**  
Lizzie was late. Late, late, late. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes and began looking for her cell phone, wondering why on earth she thought it would be a good idea to put it on silent. She was supposed to be at the restaurant five minutes ago, but she'd fallen asleep for two hours. Maneuvering around the boxes in her living room**, **she tried to find some shoes to wear with the jeans she had planned on looking for in a minute. She pulled off her ratty old shirt as she walked, stubbing her toe in the process.

"Fuck," she swore, wincing in pain. She looked around and picked up a pale blue cashmere sweater strewn on the ground. Sniffing it twice, she deemed it clean enough to wear. She pulled it over her head frantically, but didn't put her arms in the sleeves because she needed to find a bra first. Quickly pulling off her lounge pants, she left them on the floor as she went in search of a bra. She picked up a black one and found her phone underneath it. Five missed calls from Jane. "Fuck," she swore again.

She dialed her sister's number, pressed the speakerphone button, then put the phone on the counter.

"Lizzie, where are you?" Jane's voice said.

"I'm sorry, Janie. I fell asleep!" Lizzie cried, snapping her bra on and pushing her arms through the sleeves of the sweater. She spotted some jeans on the ground.

"What? You fell asleep?" Jane asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," she moaned, pulling the jeans on. "I'm getting dressed now. Can I wear jeans?"

"No, Lizzie, you have to at least wear dress pants."

"Fuck," she swore for the third time. "Okay. I'll look for some. Just go ahead and order without me, okay?"

"It's not a big deal, Lizzie. Charlie's running late too."

"He is?" Lizzie asked. "So I can take my time?"

"Well, no. I sent Will to go get you."

"What?" Lizzie exclaimed. "But Jane!"

"I have to stand in line."

"Didn't you make reservations?"

"Yes, but with you not answering your phone, and Charlie being late, we're an incomplete party, and they don't seat incomplete parties!" She rambled, almost hysterical.

Lizzie groaned. "Why couldn't Will stand in line and you come get me? He probably could have paid the guy to get us a table and he could save it for us! Jane! I need you to help me find my pants!"

"We didn't think of that, and he was getting restless."

"You're a terrible sister," Lizzie said, just as she heard a knock on the door.

"That's probably him. Call me when you're on your way." Before Lizzie could say anything in protest, Jane hung up.

Lizzie buttoned her jeans and yelled, "Come in!"

She heard the door open, but paid no mind to it. She needed to find dress pants. Turning back toward her bedroom, she hoped she hadn't packed them yet.

"Elizabeth?" Will's voice called. "What happened to your apartment?"

Lizzie snorted. "A tornado!" she called back. "Make yourself useful and look for some dress pants, would you?"

"Dress pants?" His voice was closer now.

She pushed hair out of her face and dug around in her dresser, finding nothing but tights and leotards. _Why _hadn't she packed these _first_?

She stepped over a pile of shoes, knelt down and looked under her bed. "Why are you looking for dress pants?" he asked.

"Why do you think?" Lizzie felt around under her bed, but found nothing. She stood up quickly to find Will standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking around with a carefully neutral expression. She scowled at him. "If you're not going to make yourself useful, just go sit in the living room."

"What's with the ballet shoes?" he asked, gesturing to the various Pointe shoes she had hanging on her walls. She hadn't bothered to take them down to pack yet.

"Well, I am a ballet dancer, you know."

He frowned at her. "They're so dirty."

"They're _used_." she corrected. "Loved." She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing when she found tangles. She moved to her dresser again, this time to look for a hairbrush. Flipping her head over, she started brushing out the knots. When she finished, she saw Will still staring at her shoes.

"Are they all yours?" he asked.

"No," she replied. She took some bobby pins and attempted to pin back her bangs. "The ones around the window aren't; the ones with signatures."

In the mirror, she saw him make a face. "Why do you have other dancers' old, dirty shoes?"

She sighed, giving up on the hair and simply putting it in a messy bun. Turning from the mirror, she walked to the window where seven pairs of Pointe shoes hung in a row. Her eyes held Will's as she touched a pair of shoes. "These are Peter Martins' shoes." At Will's blank look, she moved on with a quiet sigh. "These shoes belonged to Alexandra Ansanelli. She signed them after her last performance at NYCB, before she moved onto the Royal Ballet in England. These shoes are Marie Neilson's, given to me after my first Swan Lake performance." Recognition dawned on his face at Marie's name, and Lizzie guessed that he'd read a few articles about her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"And those?" he asked, pointing to the shoes encased in a glass shadow box.

Lizzie touched the glass with her finger. "Margot Fonteyn," she said softly.

"Who?" Will asked.

Lizzie stared at him incredulously. "You don't know who Margot Fonteyn is?"

He shook his head.

"She's only one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century," she answered, still staring at the shoes. "She died in the 90's. My dad bought these at one of the many Galas he went to years and years ago. He gave them to me for my twelfth birthday."

"I see," was all he said.

Lizzie shook her head and walked past him. "You just don't get it," she muttered. She walked to the kitchen, looking inside a box labeled "Etc." She found two pairs of dress pants in it and wondered why she hadn't put them in the boxes labeled "Clothes."

One was less wrinkled than the other, so she chose that pair. She went into the bathroom and changed her pants, emerging from the bathroom at the same time Will emerged from her bedroom. They stared at each for a minute and Lizzie wondered why he had waited in her bedroom rather than the living room. "Ready?" she asked him sarcastically, picking up her coat and purse.

He had the same look she saw him wear during dinner a week ago. The one where he looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He shrugged instead, following her out.

**January 24; 8:12PM**  
The restaurant was packed.

"Why didn't we just eat at Charlie's again?" Lizzie asked. Her voice sounded almost foreign after the painfully silent car ride.

Will shrugged. "I believe he's been wanting to take Jane here for a while."

"Why did we have to come then?"

"Jane worries about you and Charlie doesn't want her to, so he invites you as well. He thinks you're funny." He looked around for his friend and her sister.

Lizzie pointed at a pretty blonde couple sitting together intimately in the corner. "Why are you here?"

"So you don't feel like a third wheel." He led the way to them.

"We should both just decline next time," Lizzie suggested to his back.

There was a longer pause then usual.

"If you'd like," he replied, shrugging again.

**January 26; 11:58AM**  
Lizzie leaned against the elevator wall tiredly and pressed the button to the ground floor. Her legs hurt, her eyes were tired, and her stomach was growling. Just as the elevator doors were closing, a man's leg stopped it.

In walked Collin Perry. Lizzie groaned audibly.

"Good morning, Miss Eliza."

Lizzie closed her eyes and tried to ignore him.

He didn't seem to notice. "It's a beautiful day out. The sun is shining. How are you today?" When she didn't answer, he moved closer to her. "Miss Eliza, are you alright?" She felt his hand on her shoulder and she slapped it away.

"I'm fine!" She opened her eyes to see him extremely close to her. She inched away.

"That's good to hear, although you do look rather green."

Lizzie didn't respond. She wished she had not been lazy and taken the stairs.

"I spoke to Ms. Catherine de Bourgh about you," Collin said casually.

She closed her eyes again, hoping that when she opened them, he'd be gone.

"She thinks you sound like a wonderful person," he continued. "I think Anne would like you a lot as well. I mean, _I _like you a lot. I feel as though I should not overlook your desire to continue with your career though."

Finally, the elevator doors opened. Lizzie walked out quickly, but Collin followed her even when she stepped out of the hospital and sat down on a bench.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm meeting a friend," she answered, hoping the fact that she was expecting someone would deter him.

"Oh, how wonderful. I'll wait with you so you're not alone." She sighed again. No such luck. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "So you're not interested in marriage at all?"

"No," she replied.

"I see," he said quietly, sounding disappointed, though she wasn't sure why. "I was going to ask you out. We have such a lovely connection, don't you think?"

She gawked at him, speechless.

He seemed to take this as encouragement. "Yes. In the short time I've known you, I pegged you as the companion of my future life."

Lizzie looked around wildly, wondering if she was on some sort of game show. Was_ Punk'd_ still on? Why would they punk her though? She wasn't a celebrity. She saw tall blonde run behind a building and wondered if Jane was playing a trick on her.

"However, if you're not interested in marriage or giving up your dancing career…If that's not your eventual goal, then I don't think this will work. I don't want to begin a relationship that has no future, you see." He sighed. "I shall have to look elsewhere."

"Try myspace," she muttered.

"Your space?" he asked, confused.

Just when Lizzie thought she would truly die from the ridiculousness of the situation, Charlotte appeared.

"Oh thank god," she said to her friend, getting up and almost running away from Collin.

Charlotte gave her a peculiar look. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine," Lizzie said, taking Charlotte's arm to leave. However, Charlotte was staring at something over Lizzie's shoulder.

"Who's your friend?"

"He's not my-"

"I'm Collin Perry," he said, approaching them,

"Charlotte Lucas," she replied, shaking his hand. "Are you the famous physical therapist?" she asked. "For the New York socialite?"

Lizzie frowned. Famous physical therapist? Had she missed something?

"Oh, I wouldn't say that I'm famous," Collin said airily. "Ms. De Bourgh is famous. I'm just known through association."

"I thought I recognized you. You work in Texas. That's where Ms. De Bourgh moved after Anne was diagnosed right?"

He nodded, smiling, clearly impressed by her knowledge of him.

Charlotte smiled back, and Lizzie's stomach growled again. "Can we please go?" she asked.

Charlotte ignored her and addressed Collin. "How's working with Anne de Bourgh?"

"She's an absolute delight, just like her mother. Her scoliosis is tragic, but I do love being able to help her."

"Should we get going to lunch, Charlotte?" Lizzie asked, tugging her friend's arm desperately.

"Want to join us?" Charlotte asked Collin.

**January 29; 1:28PM**  
Lizzie stared at her wrist, wishing even more desperately for a watch. She wondered why Charlotte had even invited this strange man to lunch with them. She stretched her neck, trying to find the waiter to ask for her portion of the check so she could leave. Charlotte's giggling reverberated loudly in the spacious private room Collin had requested. Lizzie bit her lip to suppress an annoyed groan.

"That's _so_ funny," Charlotte said between giggles. "Lizzie, did you get it?"

_No_, she thought. _I don't get why you're talking to this weirdo._

"Yes," Collin said. "Ms. De Bourgh is quite a magnificent woman. She was the one that told me that joke. She possesses all the qualities a woman should. Her daughter is a sight to be seen as well. She is beautiful, just like her mother, and the scoliosis has only made her stronger. She's had surgery to fix it, and I'm certain that soon she won't need me anymore!"

"Oh, but then you'll be out of a job, Collin," Charlotte said.

Collin shook his head. "Ms. De Bourgh would never send me out without a good reference so that I could get a new job. She also said I would be able to live with her at Rosings for as long as I needed."

"Rosings?" Lizzie asked.

"It's a large estate in Texas, Lizzie," Charlotte explained.

"Yes, it overlooks Lake Travis in Austin. It's very grand. I'm very fortunate to have such a wonderful employer. I have the entire guest house to myself." Collin looked at Lizzie pointedly. "It has three bedrooms and two baths."

Lizzie politely tried to arrange her face to look impressed.

"I have my eye on a very large house that's up for sale next to Rosings though. It's much too big for one man, but I am hoping to find someone worthy of sharing my life with." He gave Lizzie an almost longing glance. She ignored it. "For now, it's a very lonely life for me," Collin continued with a sigh. "I mean, I do love my job, and I love the De Bourghs, but it is a very hard to dedicate one's life to this job."

"Do you not have friends?" Lizzie asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"As I said, my job consumes most of my life."

"Funny, my job consumed most of my life, and I still managed to make friends," Lizzie muttered. Charlotte gave her a reproachful look, but she didn't care. She was growing annoyed and restless, tired of watching Collin indecisively fawn over her and Charlotte at the same time.

The waiter finally came with the check. Lizzie reached for her purse to get her money, but couldn't find it. She frowned. "Char, have you seen my purse?"

Charlotte pulled her eyes from Collin for a second to look at Lizzie. "You didn't bring a purse, Lizzie."

Lizzie's frown deepened. "Are you sure?"

Collin and Charlotte both nodded, adding to her annoyance. She sighed. "I must have left it at the hospital."

"Are you sure?" Collin asked.

She glared at him. "Of course I'm sure." She looked at Charlotte. "Can I pay you back for lunch?"

Charlotte nodded, grabbing her wallet. Collin put his hand on Charlotte's and said, "I could never make you two pay for lunch. It's on me."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but began to move from her seat. "I'm going to go back to the hospital."

"Oh, wait, Lizzie. We'll come with you," Charlotte said.

Lizzie would have been okay with just Charlotte, but not Charlotte and Collin. She blanched at the idea. Lizzie stood up. "No, it's fine, Char. No need for you to waste your time because of my stupidity. I'll call you later, okay?" She grabbed her coat and left them hastily without waiting for an answer.

**January 29; 2:23PM**  
"Excuse me," Lizzie said to the receptionist at the physical therapist office.

The blonde looked up from her magazine with a smile. "Hello, Miss Bennet. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you found a black purse anywhere? I think I left it here."

"Oh!" The receptionist exclaimed. "Dr. Darcy just picked it up to bring to the main desk. Let me just page him to come back and bring it here."

Lizzie frowned and watched the blonde press some buttons. "Dr. Darcy?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes, he came here looking for you earlier." The receptionist smiled. "He'll be here in just a minute. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Do you know why he was looking for me?"

The blond shook her head. "He didn't say. How do you know him?"

"Mutual friend," Lizzie muttered.

"Oh, he's rather attractive, isn't he?"

Lizzie made a noncommittal sound in reply, still confused as to why Will would be looking for her. She bit her thumbnail, cringing when she tasted chipped nail polish.

"He's so intimidating though," The receptionist continued, almost to herself. "I'm so afraid to talk to him. Everyone is."

"Everyone?" Lizzie asked.

"Well, everyone below him. My friend, Mariah, is one of his interns. She says he's very intimidating. He demands a lot from them. He's very aloof."

"Mmm," Lizzie replied, still chewing on her nail, despite the chipped nail polish taste. She really needed to quit this habit.

The receptionist looked behind her and said, "Oh, hello, Dr. Darcy."

Will nodded a greeting to the receptionist before looking at Lizzie. "Your sister called," he informed her, handing her the purse.

Lizzie scowled at him. "You went through my bag and checked my calls?"

He scowled back. "No. Charlie called me to ask if I'd seen you. Then he asked me to go see if you were still at your appointment. You weren't, but your bag was there, so I was taking it to the main desk for you."

"Oh," Lizzie said, finger still in her mouth. She swallowed, and then said, "Thanks."

He nodded and turned to walk away.

She thanked the receptionist before following Will.

"Thanks for, um, saving my leg too," Lizzie said, falling in step with him.

He gave her a sidelong glance before he replied, "You're welcome."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them. Lizzie chewed her lip for a moment, wondering why she didn't feel better. She thanked him just like she knew she should have a long time ago. Sparing a glance at Will, she caught the sour look on his face when he asked, "How have you been?"

"Good," she replied. "What about you? Fall asleep at anymore dinners?" she asked, referring to dinner at Charlie's the day before. He'd fallen asleep quickly after dinner had finished.

"I was very tired that night," he said defensively. "I'd had an on call shift the night before, and I got very little sleep."

"Sure, sure. You're always on call." Lizzie smiled, glad for a distraction from this guilty feeling that had settled in her stomach from not expressing gratitude to him sooner. "You got drunk off two glasses of wine and fell asleep."

"I did no such thing." He pressed the down button and they both waited for the elevator to arrive. The scowl he wore was so deep that Lizzie wondered why he didn't just take the stairs if he was having such a horrible time talking to her.

"I thought Charlie was supposed to be the light weight."

The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside. "He is."

"Alright, Will." Lizzie pressed the ground floor button. "Just no more wine for you."

"I can hold my wine just fine."

"Maybe you can hold grape juice better."

"You are very frustrating," he said exasperatedly.

"You just don't have a sense of humor," Lizzie countered.

"I thought we were supposed to be declining invitations anyway," he said. "You showed up at Charlie's yesterday a few days after our agreement. I'm confused."

Lizzie shrugged. "I guess we're both guilty of breaking the agreement then. I just wanted a break from packing. I didn't think you'd be there. Why _were_ you there? You got there after me, didn't you?"

He was silent for a moment then asked, "Are you done packing then?"

It didn't escape her that he'd avoided her question, but she let it go, deciding it didn't really matter. "No. I just told you, I took a break."

He frowned. "You only have a day or two left, don't you? Doesn't your lease end at the end of this month?"

"Yeah. I'll get it done." She wondered how he knew that and made a mental note to talk to Jane about talking behind her back.

"How far along are you?"

"I don't know. A little more than the last time you saw my apartment?"

His frown deepened. "It was a mess in there!"

"Yeah, but that's better than it being super clean, isn't it? If it was clean, it means I haven't started. If it's messy, it at least means I'm halfway there."

"Halfway there?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure. Taking all the stuff out of its place is one half. Putting the stuff into boxes is the other half." She smiled.

He stared at her, with a look she'd often seen on Jane when she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult crossword puzzle. He said nothing. The elevator doors opened, and Lizzie stepped out.

"Liz?" a voice called from her left.

Lizzie turned to meet the blue eyes of George Wickham. "George!"

She watched his smile turn to a glare when he saw Will. Turning toward Will, she saw that he mirrored George's glare. She frowned. Will was the first to break eye contact. He looked at Lizzie for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something to her, but didn't. Instead he walked away in the opposite direction.

"I didn't know he worked here," George said quietly, watching Will disappear down the corridor.

"Oh, do you know Will?" Lizzie asked, pretending she hadn't seen them glare daggers at each other just seconds before.

"Yes, I've actually known him for almost a decade now," he replied.

"Really?" Lizzie asked, surprised.

George nodded. "How do you know him?"

"I met him at a party," she answered, not really seeing a reason to go in depth.

"What do you think of him?"

Lizzie shrugged noncommittally.

George smiled. "I really have no right to give my opinion on him. I'm a little bias because of…well, everything."

Try as she might, Lizzie could not contain her curiosity. "How do _you_ know him?"

"I was an exchange student in the UK and the Darcys were my host family. It was mostly his dad and sister since Will was already in college. I believe his father signed up for the program because he missed having a son in the estate. Anyway, I did my junior year of high school there. When I wasn't busy with my studies or hanging out with my friends, I would spend time with Mr. Darcy. He was a very kind man who loved to joke around and laugh, nothing like Will." George laughed softly.

"Do you still keep in touch with his family?"

"No." He looked at his feet for a moment before answering. "Will's father died shortly after I began at university."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Will's father was actually paying for my education."

"Really? Where did you go to school?"

"Cambridge, actually. I kept in touch with Will's father and sister after I came back to the States. When I mentioned loving England so much and my desire to study at Cambridge, Will's father insisted on funding my education, should I get in there. I worked hard and got in. Mr. Darcy was thrilled. I wasn't so comfortable with him paying for my education, so I applied for as much financial aid as possible. In the end, Mr. Darcy paid for about half, which was still too much. I promised myself I would pay him back one day for his generosity."

"So what happened?" Lizzie asked. Clearly Cambridge hadn't worked out if he was working here, right?

"Well, Will's father died after my first semester there. I was devastated. He was like a father to me. My parents died shortly after my high school graduation, you see." He paused, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. "After the funeral and everything was taken care of, the lawyers looked at Mr. Darcy's will. We found out that he'd specified that my education continue to be funded for. He also set aside a hefty amount for me to have after my education was finished."

"That was nice of him."

George nodded. "It didn't work out though. Will was angry and distraught. He and I never really got along, and I guess for him to find out that his father loved me like a son…well, it pissed him off. He talked to the lawyers and found a loophole in the will. I didn't get any money. I finished my first year at Cambridge, but it was also my last year there. I couldn't pay for it anymore, even with the help of financial aid."

"No!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He took a deep breath, then expelled it. "Will was jealous of the relationship I had with his father and did everything he could to ruin my life."

"That's terrible!"

"Yeah. I worked at as a waiter for a while, saving money to go back home. See, I didn't even have enough money for that! Since then, I've just been working odd jobs, trying to make ends meet."

Lizzie felt terrible for George. "I can't believe Will did that to you! I feel so bad."

"Oh, don't pity me, Liz. I'm doing alright." He gave her a smile. Lizzie found she loved the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed when he did.

She returned the smile. "Hey, what are you doing next Saturday?"

George's smile broadened. "Are you asking me out, Liz?"

She laughed. "My sister's having a party at her place. You should come."

His face darkened a bit. "Will's not going to be there, is he?"

Lizzie shrugged. "He might be. You're going to let that stop you from coming?"

"It's going to take more than Will Darcy to keep me from your party," he replied, obviously hearing the challenge in her voice.

Lizzie nodded. "Good." After rummaging around in her bag for some paper and a pen, she wrote down the address, time, and her number. Then she pressed the piece of paper firmly into George's hand, holding it there for a little longer than necessary.

"See you there!" She gave him her best smile before walking towards the exit.

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_Review, please! :]_


	8. Belief Is A Beautiful Armor

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I really, really appreciate them.

So, I'm in Las Vegas for my 21st birthday, sitting in a hotel room eating ice cream in bed, waiting for my friend to finish getting ready so we can go exploring. Instead of watching TV or bugging her, I thought I'd try to get this chapter out to you now. _That's_ how much I love you all. :]

Sorry the chapter took a while to get out. My beta and I have both been busy. Stupid school. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. My birthday's on Sunday. Leave me reviews for my birthday?

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**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Eight: Belief Is A Beautiful Armor  
**

**---**

**January 31; 11:22PM**  
"Are you sure, Lizzie? That just doesn't sound like something Will would do," Jane said after listening to Lizzie's summary of what Will had done to George. She picked up another slice of pizza and stared at it, trying to decide if she wanted to eat it.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that, Jane. You're determined to see the best in everyone."

"And you're determined to see the worst," Jane replied, putting the slice back and closing the box. "Will's a really nice guy, you know." She picked up the box and walked to the kitchen.

"You say that about everyone." Lizzie picked up the napkins and plates strewn on the coffee table to help her sister tidy up.

The blonde shook her head. "Not everyone. Will really _is_ a nice guy. He saved your leg."

Lizzie rolled her eyes again. "Okay, fine. He saved my leg. That doesn't mean he's not a jerk sometimes."

"You just don't like him because he said that stuff about you at the party before Christmas." After putting the pizza box in the fridge, her sister grabbed a carton of milk out.

"I suppose I would be able to forgive his pride if he hadn't wounded mine," Lizzie admitted defensively.

Jane smiled triumphantly, pouring herself a glass of milk. "You barely even know George, Lizzie. I know you think he's attractive, but that doesn't mean he's telling the truth."

"Why would he make this up though?" she asked, understanding that she had not heard both sides of the story, but still not wanting to admit her sister was right just yet.

"I don't know," Jane said with a shrug. "It just doesn't seem like he's telling the truth though. People have a lot more reasons to lie than to tell the truth. You should ask Will at the party next week."

Lizzie frowned. "He's coming?"

"Of course. He's Charlie's best friend, and he saved my sister's leg. Why wouldn't I invite him?"

"Jane, technically, he didn't save my leg. That other doctor did. Why didn't you invite him?"

"Don't be cheeky," Jane said, taking a sip of her milk, and then offering the glass to Lizzie.

Lizzie shook her head. "I can't help it."

"I know," the older Bennet laughed. "I just don't want you to put all of your faith in George."

"I'm not putting all of my faith in him. I just _like _him more than I like Will," Lizzie said, leaning on the counter.

Jane finished off her glass of milk. "That clouds your judgment."

"I suppose it does make me bias."

"You can't fault the guy for being awkward, Lizzie. It's hardly Will's fault."

"Whose is it then?" Lizzie asked. "Whose fault is it that he judged me before he even knew me?"

"Why do you care what he said about you anyway? You usually never care. Plus, he said it before he even knew you. He apologized for saying it, didn't he?"

"_No_," she protested emphatically. "He said sorry that I heard it, not sorry for saying it."

"Maybe it means the same thing to him," Jane tried. "He likes you now."

"How do you know that?" Lizzie demanded.

Jane shrugged, a small, mischievous smile playing on her lips. "He asks about you sometimes."

"He does?" She was unconvinced.

Her sister nodded. "Sometimes."

"What does he ask?"

Jane gave her another triumphant smile. "Why so curious, little sister?"

"I want to know what he asks about me." Lizzie knew it'd probably be nothing good.

The blonde shrugged. "He usually asks how you are, if your leg's healing, how your physical therapy is going."

"That doesn't count," Lizzie scoffed. "Those are all medical things. He sees me as an investment or something. He put all that time into sewing my leg, so he wants to make sure it works."

"How is that an investment?" Jane asked, confused. "An investment is when you put money into something and hope you get a bunch more back."

"Technicality, Jane. You know what I meant." She began walking to her new, temporary bedroom.

Jane laughed and followed her. "You're so weird. He asked if you had a boyfriend once."

Lizzie stopped so abruptly that Jane bumped into her. She turned around to face her sister. "You're joking."

"No," Her sister took a step back and smiled ruefully. Then she thought about it. "Well, Caroline asked if you had a boyfriend, and I said no, but Will was interested the whole time. He also looked really pleased when I said you didn't."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "You are so ridiculous, Jane."

"What?" Jane asked, acting as if Lizzie calling her ridiculous had been uncalled for.

"Stop trying to get me to like Will Darcy. I don't like him."

"You said he was attractive once," Jane pointed out.

"Yeah, I don't deny that, but didn't you just tell me not to trust someone based on his looks?"

This time Jane rolled her eyes. "_You're_ ridiculous." Then she had a mischievous smile again. "Who's more attractive? Will or George?"

Lizzie considered her sister's question. George had rugged good looks, golden brown hair, and gorgeous blue eyes that reminded her of oceans and skies and all those other clichés. He was charming, always smiling at her with adorable dimples and making her laugh. Will was more of a tall, dark, and handsome type. His dark hair fell over his smoldering slate gray eyes in a captivating manner. He had thick dark lashes that framed his eyes beautifully. His nose was perfect, and even if his lips were always shaped in a disapproving frown when he talked to her, they were nice looking. Will's attractiveness came from finely sculpted features and hard lines.

"George," she lied, because what matters is what's on the inside. George's insides were nicer than Will's. "Without a doubt."

**February 8; 9:49PM**  
Will Darcy was always early. He had been raised by a father who insisted that if you weren't ten minutes early, you were late. It was for this reason, and this reason _alone_, that he stood at Jane Bennet's door a good ten minutes before the party even started.

Jane answered the door with a smile, of course. "Oh!" she said, surprised. "Will! You're here early."

He winced. "Yes," he replied.

"Come on in, there are a few other people here already too."

He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked around the room and saw more than ten people conversing under the low lighting of the apartment. Jane introduced them, but he forgot all their names as soon as she said them. He smiled as politely as he could and then moved to where Charlie was standing.

"Why are you here so early?" Charlie asked. "I would have thought you'd come as late as possible and then leave as quickly as possible."

Will scowled. "Would I really do that?"

Charlie laughed. "Yes, you hate parties."

His friend knew him too well. He did hate parties. He had no reason, except for his compulsive need to be on time, to explain why he was here early. "I hate being rude."

Charlie laughed again. "No, you don't."

His scowl deepened. "Well, would you like me to be rude to your girlfriend, Charlie?"

Before Charlie could answer, a redhead wrapped her arms around Will tightly. Will tried to suck in air, but all he got was a big whiff of Caroline's toxic perfume.

"Hello, Will," Caroline purred.

Will quickly untangled himself from her and took a few steps back to get away from the wretched smell of artificially musky flowers. "Hello, Caroline."

"You look so handsome tonight, Will," Caroline said, looking him up and down hungrily.

He cringed. "Thanks."

The doorbell rang again, and Caroline looked to see if it was anyone interesting. When it wasn't, she sighed. "This party's dreary."

"It's just started, Caroline," Charlie pointed out.

Caroline pouted. "Not for me. You made me come here super early."

"You said you wanted to help," Charlie argued.

"Well, I thought it'd be more than just you, me, Jane, and Jane's two friends." She eyed Will accusingly.

He simply looked around to avoid her eyes. Jane had a rather nice apartment, he noted. It was spacious, well decorated, and tidy. There were pictures all over the walls, and unlike Caroline's room where the pictures were of her, Jane's pictures were of other people. There were a lot of Elizabeth. He refused to look around for _her_, so he was stuck looking at Caroline again.

"Would you like me to get you a drink, Will?" Caroline asked sweetly.

Will pondered if it was childish and paranoid to be worried she might drug his drink. "I'll get it myself, Caroline," he replied, glad for an excuse to get away.

Walking to the kitchen, he found it full of people. He backed out, deciding he didn't need a drink right now if it came with the unnecessary burden of conversing with people he didn't know or care to know.

Caroline and Charlie had disappeared from their spot, so Will wasn't sure what to do. Before he could give it much thought, Elizabeth emerged.

**February 8; 10:12PM**  
Lizzie was uncomfortable. She hated the feeling, but couldn't shake it at all. Perhaps it was the solid black tights she was wearing to cover up her scar or the idea that she was actually hiding something. She had wanted to wear jeans or pants, but Jane insisted she wear the dress she'd been planning to wear to the Gala. Lizzie conceded because she always conceded to Jane, but couldn't find it in herself to wear her beautiful white evening gown. She had purchased it specifically for the Gala and it felt wrong to wear it for a party instead. Instead, she wore a short halter dress. It was a lovely royal blue color with a gold empire waistband bow. The skirt of it was a bubble hem and shorter than she usually wore, but showed off her long legs magnificently. The matching black pumps probably helped too. Too bad right now her legs were the last things she wanted to be showing off, her right leg specifically.

Plus, Will Darcy had been staring at her since she came out of her room. She bit her lip and wrung her hands for a moment, but reminded herself that besides the scar, she looked good. She'd spent longer on her hair than usual, giving it an elegant twist and letting a few wispy tendrils fall around her face. Her bangs had just been trimmed this morning, so she brushed them to the side a bit, but she could tell they were going to be falling in her eyes all night. Charlotte had begged to do her make up, and Lizzie had let her. She gave Lizzie a smoky, dark look around her eyes. It was more make up than she usually wore too.

She told herself that it wasn't to impress George.

"You look so gorgeous," Charlotte said when Lizzie approached her.

Lizzie smiled. "Thanks." Then, she noticed who was next to Charlotte, holding her hand.

"Hello, Miss Eliza. You do look lovely," Collin complimented, though he barely spared her a glance. His eyes were on Charlotte's chest.

"Who invited you?" Lizzie asked before she could stop herself.

"He's my date, Lizzie," Charlotte explained quietly. Lizzie looked between the both of them to make sure they weren't joking. It didn't seem like they were, but that was the only explanation for this, wasn't it? Lizzie opened her mouth to ask why, but Charlotte cut her off. "Will's been looking at you."

She glanced at him again, and he quickly looked away, scowling, of course.

"Will _Darcy_?" Collin asked, staring in Will's direction.

"Yes." Lizzie wondered if Collin was stalking him too.

"I must go and say hello. He is the nephew of the esteemed Catherine De Bourgh," he said excitedly, untangling his hand from Charlotte's and walking away without another word.

"Collin Perry, Char? Really?" Lizzie asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Want to go get something to drink?" Charlotte asked, already walking away.

"Don't avoid this, Charlotte," Lizzie warned, following her friend.

"I think he's nice, Lizzie."

"Nice?" Lizzie asked incredulously. "If by nice you mean _weird_ and _creepy._"

"Yeah, sure, he's weird and creepy," Charlotte admitted with a shrug. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. He has a lot of money."

Lizzie was flabbergasted. "What?"

"I mean, we have fun together because he can pay for a lot of stuff. He took me to Hawaii last week."

"Hawaii? I didn't even know he had that much money."

"He got a bonus recently and has always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"You just tagged along?"

"Well, really, it was only a plane ticket he was paying for," Charlotte reasoned. "I paid for my own food and stuff."

It didn't escape Lizzie that Charlotte didn't mention anything about a separate hotel room. "I can't believe you went to Hawaii with a _creeper_."

"Stop calling him that," Charlotte said, sounding annoyed as she pushed open the kitchen door.

"Why? Let's call a spade a spade here, Charlotte."

"It's not a big deal, Lizzie. We just have fun together." Charlotte picked up two cups and handed one to her. "What should we drink?"

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. "What are you trying to pull?"

"I'm just trying to figure out what to drink, Lizzie." The older brunette laughed.

"Stop playing dumb," Lizzie snapped.

"Don't worry, Lizzie. He _is _weird. I'm just having fun with him."

Lizzie searched her friend's face, but it was difficult, since Charlotte kept moving around, avoiding her gaze, under the premise of deciding between liquors. She sighed. "Fine, Char."

Charlotte gave her a brilliant smile. "It's nothing serious, Lizzie. Think of it like you and George. Collin's just someone I enjoy talking to and having fun with. Now, what should I get drunk on? I'm going to need it if I'm going to deal with Collin all night."

Lizzie was unconvinced. Something didn't add up, but she smiled back at her friend anyway.

**February 8; 10:59PM**  
Will was uncomfortable. Jane's apartment was officially packed. Will hated crowds. He hated conversing with Caroline. He hated awkward small talk with random girls who believed themselves to be something he might desire. He hated whiskey. Unfortunately, that was what his night was composed of. He took a sip of his Crown and Coke without really tasting it.

A few girls had tried to approach him, but Caroline had scared them off with a well-practiced withering glare. Then there had been that short man with small, eager eyes. He'd come up to Will, and not even Caroline could deter him. He insisted that they were friends just because they had a mutual contact: Catherine de Bourgh. After a lot of praises from the man and a lot of silence from Will, Caroline grew bored and took his arm to lead him away from the strange man. Caroline was now giving him her opinion on the dreadful party. He couldn't help but agree with some of it, though he said nothing.

Elizabeth's laugh stole his attention from Caroline. She was standing about three feet from him, and aside from the short glance his way at the beginning, she hadn't acknowledged his presence. That was another thing he hated: being ignored.

**February 8; 11:10PM**  
Lizzie was not having fun. George still hadn't shown up. Lizzie knew that she shouldn't feel like she'd been stood up. After all, it was still early, and it wasn't as if he'd _officially _agreed to come or anything. She finished off her second drink of the night, not even tasting the last gulps, only feeling the strong burn down her throat.

When she emerged from the kitchen with her third drink, a familiar, shrill laugh caught her attention and made her stomach drop. Mother.

Looking in the direction of the noise, she saw that it wasn't just her mother, but her twin sisters as well. She took a large gulp of her drink before weaving through the crowd. Her stomach sank even more when she saw that they were gathered around Jane, Charlie, Caroline, and Will. It was like the Christmas party all over again, except worse because the twins were here as well.

"Lizzie, dear," her mother said, smiling when she caught sight of her. "Where have you been hiding?"

Lizzie held up her cup, wishing she'd filled it with more alcohol.

Her mother clicked her tongue with disproval. "You shouldn't drink so much, Lizzie." She smiled adoringly up at Charlie. "Charlie here isn't drinking at all."

Lizzie smiled at Charlie as well, who blushed a bit. "Any reason for that Charlie?" she teased, remember his confession about being a lightweight.

He shook his head. "None that you need to share, Lizzie."

She laughed.

"What are you laughing at, Lizzie?" Lydia asked. She didn't appreciate being left out of a joke.

Before Lizzie could answer, Cathy asked Caroline, "So you're, like, a model like Jane?"

Caroline gave her a smug look before nodding.

Lydia asked Will, "You're, like, the only one that's not famous."

Will looked surprise by her comment, but simply shrugged.

"You're not famous either, Lydia," Lizzie reminded her.

Lydia grinned at Lizzie. "I will be soon."

"Me too!" Cathy exclaimed.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Okay, let me know when that's going to be."

"Soon. Like, real soon," Lydia said with as much smugness as she'd seen on Caroline.

"We got a contract to do a show on ABC Family," Cathy explained excitedly.

"We're going to be like the Olsen twins," Lydia continued, smacking her gum.

"Except, like, better!" Cathy grinned.

"Much better!" Lydia agreed, mirroring her twin.

Lizzie groaned and looked at Jane for confirmation. To her horror, her sister nodded.

"Yes, we're very proud of the girls," her mother said.

"When did this happen?" Lizzie asked.

"A few weeks after Christmas," Lydia answered.

"We were offered a deal before then," Cathy reminded her.

Lydia nodded. "We signed our contracts a few days ago though."

"We didn't mention it because we didn't want you to feel bad, Lizzie," Cathy told her.

"Cause you know, we're winning at, like, life," Lydia said, blowing a bubble with her gum.

Cathy smacked hers. "While you're, like, failing and stuff."

Despite herself, Lizzie felt a blush creep up on her face. She saw Caroline hide her smile behind her hand as she had when they'd first met.

"Cat, Lydia," Jane scolded softly.

"What?" they asked together, both smacking their gum now. Lizzie was ready to smack _them_.

"Now girls," their mother said. "Be nice to your sister. She'll find something else soon." She looked at Charlie again. "I'm so happy you and Jane are together in case something happens to tragic happens to her. It's too bad Lizzie doesn't have anyone."

Her blush deepened, but it was nothing compared to Jane's dark blush.

Not sure what to say, Charlie just smiled.

Her mother continued, giving Lizzie a sad look. "Ever since Andrew left her, I'm afraid she hasn't been able to find anyone else."

Lizzie scowled at her mom. "Really, Mom. Talk about unnecessary information."

"What?" her mother asked, using the same tone as the twins. "I just worry about you, dear. Jane's got Charlie now. She won't be able to take care of you forever."

She took another gulp her drink, then set her mouth to tell her mother she didn't need to be taken care of, but Will's tone stopped the words.

"How many drinks have you had?" he asked, frowning at her.

"I don't need you to _nag_ me, Will. My _mother_ is right here, in case you missed that," she answered scathingly.

"Lizzie!" her mother exclaimed. "You have to be nice to Dr. Darcy."

"Yeah," Lydia giggled.

"He's a _doctor_," Cathy added, as if the group didn't know already.

"I'm going outside," Lizzie announced, not able to take much more of her family.

"Oh, but Lizzie, what if George shows up?" Jane asked, biting her lip.

"George?" her mother asked, eyes wide with interest. "A _boy_?"

Lizzie winced. "Just tell him I'm on the balcony," she told Jane.

**February 8; 11:45PM**  
Will was not having fun. Jane had gone off to mingle with guests, leaving him, Charlie, and Caroline at the mercy of her mother. Will wasn't even sure what to call the woman. Her maiden name? Mrs. Bennet? The name of that other guy she'd married? He told himself it was okay that he didn't know because it's not like he planned on addressing her anytime soon.

Charlie tried making conversation with her, but she didn't like to talk about much except her days as an actress, the twins' new contract, and the gown she was wearing. Vera Wang, in case you were wondering.

Will finished off his drink and excused himself, ignoring the desperate looks Caroline and Charlie gave him.

The apartment had become so crowded and the music was giving him a migraine. Or perhaps that was from Elizabeth's mother. He tried to make his way through the crowd without attracting attention. He wanted to go outside. He needed some air. It had nothing to do with the ballet dancer he knew would be there as well.

**February 9; 12:00AM**  
Lizzie was annoyed. Will Darcy had apparently decided to come out to the balcony to_ stare_ at her. He just stared at her with a disapproving expression while she pretended she didn't notice. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Did you need something?" she asked, glaring at him.

He looked taken aback, but whether it was because of the question or the rude way she asked it, Lizzie wasn't sure. He ignored her question and asked her how her leg was.

"You know, you're going to have to come up with a better question to start out your conversations," she said, turning away from him.

"What would you suggest?" he asked, moving to the balcony railing next to her.

She shrugged. "You could say hello."

"Hello," he said.

Lizzie cast him a sidelong glance to see him still staring at her. She sighed. "Now, I suppose you can comment on the weather, and I'll say that it's rather cold, but I love cold weather. Then you can tell me your opinion on cold weather."

"Do you usually script your conversations?"

"Only when necessary," she replied.

When he remained silent, Lizzie turned her head to look at him. He was staring intently at her, looking like he wanted to say something.

"What?" Lizzie demanded.

"Are you wearing black stockings to cover your scar?" he asked bluntly.

"No," she lied through clenched teeth. "It goes with the dress."

"I see," Will said. He seemed to struggle with the next words for a few minutes, but then he asked, "Are you having a good time tonight?"

"A blast," Lizzie retorted, barely holding back a snort.

"Me as well," Will deadpanned. Lizzie wondered if he caught her sarcasm.

She sighed and turned to lean against the railing to watch the party. She groaned when she spotted Lydia and Cat dancing very provocatively together against the wall. "My sisters are wall dancing."

Will mirrored her actions and followed her gaze. "What exactly is wall dancing? What they're doing?"

"Yes," Lizzie replied. "Disgusting, isn't it?"

"I don't really get it," Will said, watching the girls dance with a confused expression.

"Just watch a Ciara video," she told him, wondering if she had the energy to go stop her sisters. Luckily, Jane came over to talk to them before Lizzie had to make a decision.

They watched in silence as Jane scolded the twins, her voice was drowned by distance and music but her arms waved wildly around and her face was red. Lizzie almost laughed at the situation.

"Would it be insensitive to ask if you'd like to dance?" Will asked quietly.

She scowled at him. "Yes."

He nodded, and said no more. After a few minutes of awkward silence, where Lizzie contemplated whether or not she should just go back inside, Will spoke. "When Jane asked about George coming earlier, she didn't mean George Wickham did she?"

Lizzie glared at him. "Why? Are you not a fan of George?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," he said more truthfully than she'd expected. "I can't say I am."

"He's not a fan of you either," she muttered, going back to staring at the sky. "At least he has a good reason."

"A good reason?" Will asked incredulously.

"Yes," Lizzie replied simply.

"What did he tell you?" Will asked, his voice instantly harsh.

Surprised at his tone, she met his eyes. "Why do you care?"

"If he's spreading lies-"

"Lies? What makes you think they're lies?" Lizzie asked, temper flaring.

"All George Wickham does is spread lies!" Will exclaimed angrily.

"Really? Would you like to give me your side of the story?"

"What story?" he asked, moving in front of her and staring down at her. "What far fetched story did he feed you?"

Lizzie frowned at him. "He didn't _feed_ me anything! He just told me that-"

"Lizzie!" Both Lizzie and Will turned to see her mother standing in the doorway. "You shouldn't talk to Dr. Darcy that way," her mother slurred.

Letting out an exasperated groan, she pushed away from the railing forcefully and walked past both her mother and Will Darcy. "I was done anyway." As she felt their eyes burn into her back as she walked back into the apartment and heard her mother apologize for her behavior, Lizzie couldn't help thinking that this party had been a total disappointment and a waste of a perfectly good dress.

* * *

Do I really have to tell you again that it's my birthday and you should review? ;]


	9. LoveIsJust A Lyric In A Children's Rhyme

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Nine: Love Is Just A Lyric In A Children's Rhyme**

**---**

**February 17; 9:40AM**  
Lizzie wasn't sure why her alarm was going off. She glared at it, hoping it would turn itself off under the intimidation of her glare. When it didn't, she reluctantly removed her arm from under the covers and reached to turn it off herself. Then she remembered she had to take Jane to the airport today. She padded into the kitchen, expecting to see her sister there, and was surprised when she didn't.

"Janie?" she asked, softly knocking on Jane's door. She knocked again when there wasn't an answer. She opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle her sister. Her consideration was wasted though, because her sister wasn't there. Her room looked exactly as it always did: spotless. Lizzie frowned and racked her mind, trying to remember if Jane had come home last night from her date with Charlie. She hadn't.

Walking back into her room, she grabbed her phone and prepared to call her sister to make sure she was okay. Lizzie saw she had missed a text from Jane around 2AM last night. "I'm staying at Charlie's tonight. I'll be back tomorrow." Lizzie smiled at the thought of her sister staying overnight with Charlie.

Lizzie put the phone down and went to wash up. Just as she finished brushing her teeth, there was a knock at the door. She made her way to the door, opening it without looking through the peephole. "So you stay overnight with a boy and forget your key?" she asked teasingly, assuming it was Jane.

"Neither, actually," a deep, British voice replied.

Lizzie's smile disappeared when she saw it wasn't her sister. "I thought you were someone else."

"Apparently," Will replied, not smiling either. He had his usual disapproving look on his face as he took in her appearance.

Lizzie was suddenly very aware of her attire. She was wearing a tight, bright purple tank top, blue striped boxer shorts, and a pair of knee-high socks that didn't match. In fact, they were horribly mismatched. One was yellow with white polka dots and the other was lime green. Realizing that she probably looked pretty ridiculous, she flushed. "What do you want?" she asked, trying not to show her discomfort.

"Do your socks ever match?" he asked, frowning. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear matching socks."

"Did you realize this over your bowl of cereal this morning and decide you had to come over to ask me?" she asked sarcastically.

"I left my jacket here the other night," he explained, still frowning. "Seriously though. Do you ever match your socks?"

"Jane found two jackets while cleaning the other day. They're in the coat closet." She opened the door wider to gesture him in. "I don't like to match socks."

"You don't like to?" he asked, incredulous, walking over to the coat closet and opening it. "It's a simple process and doesn't take that long."

"Well, what's the point?" she countered.

He removed the dark Diesel jacket she remembered admiring the night Jane found it. She sighed. Of course it'd be his. She'd never admit it out loud, but he had impeccable style. "Well, I guess the point would be so that you're not stuck wearing a yellow sock with a green one."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "I wasn't expecting to go out in public like this."

"Good," he replied, glancing at her legs for a moment before meeting your eyes. "You look quite strange." His eyes danced with mirth. The corners of his lips turned up slightly, but it was too awkward to call a smile.

"You know, I find it impressive that you can turn every occasion, even something as mundane as picking up a forgotten jacket, into a chance to insult me," Lizzie said, annoyed. She opened the door for him. "Are you done?"

He stared at her for a moment, and then frowned again. "Have a good day, Elizabeth." He walked out without a backwards glace at her.

**February 17; 10:22AM**  
Lizzie looked up from her book at the sound of the door opening. Her sister walked in, wearing the biggest, dreamiest smile she'd ever seen. She looked like she had overdosed on laughing gas. Their eyes met for a split second before Jane looked away. "Let me go put my bags in the car, then we'll be on our way, okay?"

"Why do you look like you had really good sex last night?" Lizzie asked, ignoring everything her sister had just said. Jane's face flamed, and she avoided her sister's eyes. Lizzie jumped up from her seat. "Jane! Did you really?" Jane nodded, still smiling, still red in the face, still avoiding eye contact. Lizzie squealed. "Jane! Tell me all about it!"

Jane sat down on the couch and said, "It happened last night. We were in his room and just talking. He told me he got a movie role." Jane's smiled faded a bit. "He'll be leaving to California to shoot it in May. He-he wanted to know if I would be willing to try long distance." Jane's eyes lit up and her smile came back full force. "I said of course. Then he looked really relieved. Then he said that he loved me," she paused, her smile in grave danger of taking over her whole face. "I-I-I didn't really know what to say, so I kissed him. Then one thing led to another…"

Lizzie hugged her sister. "Janie! That's so cute. Did you tell him you loved him back?"

Jane shook her head. "I wanted to be sure I did, you know? I don't want to just say it because I know it would make him happy. I'm pretty sure I do, but I want to know for sure. I mean, it's only been less than two months since we've been official. I told him all that after we…" Jane trailed off again, her blush, which had just been subsiding, returned with a vengeance. "Do you think that's smart, Lizzie? Should I have just told him?"

"No!" Lizzie replied. "It's good to be sure."

"That's what Charlie said too," Jane nodded. "Oh, Lizzie. I'm so happy. Charlie is so great. I've never been this happy."

Lizzie grinned. "I've never seen you this happy."

"I wish we'd had more time," Jane said softly. "I mean, he had to rush off to work, and I have to be at the airport soon. He felt really bad for not seeing me off. I'm going to miss him while I'm gone."

"Oh, Janie. You're so in love with him," she teased.

Her sister stood up abruptly. "I'm going to miss my flight if we don't leave soon. I'll go grab my bags. Meet you in the car?"

Lizzie nodded. "You're so cute, Janie."

**February 17; 10:41AM**  
"I don't know how love is supposed to feel," Jane said, staring out the window of the car. "I think this is it, but how can I be sure, Lizzie?"

Lizzie looked away from the road for a second to inspect her sister's face. "I think you'll just know, Jane. For me, I just one day asked myself, 'Could this be love?' and a voice inside me screamed 'Yes!'"

Jane bit her lip. "I just get a dubious 'probably'."

"Well, maybe time away from Charlie will help you decide," Lizzie suggested.

The blonde nodded. "Maybe you're right. I wish I had more experience with this."

"No," Lizzie contradicted. "It would have made you bitter," she muttered.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jane give her a sympathetic, almost pitying look. "I'm sorry."

Lizzie shrugged. She rarely allowed herself to think of the first and only man she'd ever truly loved. Andrew had been everything she'd ever dreamed of. He was intelligent, handsome, and charming. She'd met him at a show during her first year as a principal dancer. He'd taken his grandmother to the show and secured backstage passes to meet the dancers. He asked her out, and she accepted. She loved his smile and his soft brown eyes. Soon, she fell in love with the rest of him as well. He was kind. Like her, he came from old money, which allowed him to work with Teach For America after college, helping underprivileged kids learn math. He had the biggest heart of anyone she'd ever met, but it didn't have room for Lizzie _and_ her ballet. He didn't understand that loving her meant loving ballet as well. Seeing her dance on stage in skimpy tutus, kissing other men, and having so many admirers had bothered him. Then her agent and mother had secured a higher paying contract, which also meant more shows. Lizzie was ecstatic, but Andrew was lonely without her. Their relationship was strained, at best. She was dancing her life away while he was off saving the world, one eleven year old at a time. He started to feel like he didn't have a girlfriend at all.

She loved him as much as she knew how, but it just hadn't been enough. He didn't understand why she needed to continue dancing, especially so often. When he finished with Teach For America and secured a steady, well paying job as a structural engineer, he asked her to give up ballet and settle down with him. Between his inheritance and his salary, he had enough money so that she'd never have to work again, especially once they married. Lizzie said she wouldn't marry him if it meant giving up ballet. They fought. It had been frustrating and painful and heartbreaking. In the end, she chose ballet over him. It had hurt. She'd shed more tears than she thought she was capable of, and in her darkest hours, she considered going back to him and doing as he wished. She missed him so much, but then, when she put on her Pointe shoes and performed, she knew that she'd miss _this_ even more if she gave it up. It had been a defining moment in her life. She realized that she probably could never love anyone as much as she loved dancing and performing. Ballet was home. Ballet was where her heart was. Ballet was her one true love. Ballet made her happier than any man ever could. Never once had she regretted her decision, but some nights, alone in her bed, she pondered over her own heart, wondering if it was filled to capacity with ballet. She wondered if it would always be this way, if there'd ever be room for anyone besides her family and friends and ballet.

"Exit's coming up, Lizzie," Jane reminded her softly. Lizzie nodded, pushing Andrew from her thoughts and changing lanes. "Are you alright, Lizzie?"

Again, she nodded. "I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to make you think about Andrew."

Lizzie didn't even wince at his name. "It's fine."

"He wasn't good enough for you, Lizzie," Jane told her quietly. "Someday, you'll find someone who will love you without asking you to give up any part of you."

She didn't have the heart to tell Jane that she didn't care, that if she could just dance for the rest of her life, she'd be happy. Instead, she just nodded one more time.

**February 21; 5:58PM**  
Lizzie was jolted from her nap by the sound of her phone vibrating. She blindly felt around for it. "Hello?" she said, wincing at her groggy, sleep laced voice.

"Were you sleeping?" Charlotte asked.

"Yeah, I was up early for my physical therapy appointment so I took a nap."

"Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," Lizzie replied, sitting up. "I shouldn't be napping this late anyway. I won't be able to sleep at night. I have to be up early for another thrilling appointment tomorrow."

"Ouch," Charlotte said sympathetically. "How are those going?"

Lizzie stifled a yawn. "Pretty well, actually. They're saying they might be able to clear me to dance in a few weeks."

"Really? That soon?"

Lizzie snorted. "Not soon enough."

"Is Jane there?" Charlotte asked, changing the subject.

"No, she left for Milan a few days ago for Fashion Week."

"Oh, I forgot about that."

"Yeah. Charlie's pretty sick without her." Lizzie laughed. "He was worried that she hasn't called him. He called me yesterday to see if anything bad happened to her because he hadn't heard from her except for a short email saying she landed. I had to explain that Jane almost never calls when she's doing these fashion things. She's either walking the runway, networking, or sleeping. She'll be back in three days anyway."

"She should make an effort to call Charlie though," Charlotte said thoughtfully. "You know, at least to show she cares and that she's thinking about him."

"Charlie knows Jane cares about him," Lizzie said.

"Really? Does she tell him?"

"Well, no." Lizzie frowned. "But it's plain as day that she's crazy about him."

"Plain to you, Lizzie, because you know your sister. To other people, it's not that clear."

"Charlie doesn't seem like the kind of guy that needs Jane to reassure him though," Lizzie replied, rubbing her tired eyes and squinting at the clock for the time.

"Everyone likes to be reassured, Lizzie."

Lizzie shrugged, but then remembered Charlotte couldn't see her. "I guess I'll mention it to her when she comes home, but I doubt it's going to be an issue. Maybe I'll tell Charlie that it's just the way Jane is next time I talk to him. I don't think it's a big deal though."

Charlotte didn't reply for a few seconds. "Want to have dinner tonight?"

"Sure," Lizzie answered, confused by the abrupt subject change. "Where at?"

"Anywhere. I really just have something I need to talk to you about."

Lizzie noticed some apprehension in her friend's voice and frowned. "What kind of something?"

"Just news," Charlotte replied vaguely. "Want to come over? We can see what's in my fridge, or order take out. We'll have a fun girls night in. You can help me with some packing."

"Packing?" Lizzie asked, confused. "What for?"

"Just come over. I really want to tell you in person."

"Fine," Lizzie pushed herself off of her bed, carefully stepping over clothes strewn all over her floor. "Let me find something to wear and I'll be over soon."

"Okay," Charlotte replied, sounding relieved.

**February 21; 6:35PM**  
"What's with all these boxes?" Lizzie asked, removing her jacket. She looked for the coat rack, but couldn't find it. She put her jacket and purse on the couch.

"That's what I called you over for, Lizzie," Charlotte replied, wringing her hands together and looking nervous. "I'm moving."

"What?"

"I'm moving."

"No, I heard you," Lizzie replied. She looked around again, taking note that most of the photographs and decor that normally adorned Charlotte's walls were now gone. "Where? Why?"

"You know Collin Perry?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Of course I know Collin Perry. How could I forget a little creeper like him?"

Her friend frowned. "He's not a creeper, Lizzie. He's a very nice man."

She snorted. "Of course he's nice. He's a creeper. They're nice until they get what they want."

"Lizzie!" Charlotte scolded.

"What?" Lizzie asked. "What does he have to do with anything, anyway?"

Charlotte bit her lip. "See, that's the thing, Lizzie. We're, that is, he and I, Collin and me…we're together. We're pretty serious about each other. When he leaves, I'm leaving with him."

Lizzie felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her. "What? Why?"

"Collin is a great guy, Lizzie. He asked me to move in with him."

"He lives with that lady, though!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"He just bought the house next to it. Remember? He was talking about it at the party," Charlotte explained patiently.

Lizzie decided not to tell Charlotte she tried counting backwards in French to keep herself from dying of boredom whenever Collin chose to open his mouth. Instead, she said, "So you're paying him rent to live there? How will your afford that?"

"He's got a steady job," she answered simply, not meeting Lizzie's eyes.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Charlotte asked, still avoiding eye contact.

Lizzie blew hair out of her face in a big huff. She hated when people were purposely dense. Clueless didn't look good on anyone. "What about your portion of rent?"

"He's not making me pay rent," Charlotte mumbled.

"So, you're just going to…live with him."

Charlotte nodded.

"And do nothing."

This made Charlotte meet Lizzie's eyes. "No! It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"Collin and I are doing really well, and we want to see where this goes. I mean, we really hit it off when we had lunch with you. Then we went on another date before going to Jane's party together. He's leaving soon, and we don't want to give up a good thing just because of that."

"You've only known him for a few weeks," Lizzie felt it was crucial to point this out.

"I know that, Lizzie," the older brunette replied.

"You're just going to move to Texas to be with some guy you've only known for a few weeks?"

"We have a good connection," Charlotte argued. "It feels like we've known each other for much longer than that.

Lizzie rolled her eyes at the cliché. "Do you even love him?"

"I think I could love him someday," Charlotte said quietly, looking at Lizzie pleadingly.

"Right," Lizzie snorted. "For now, you're fine just loving his money."

Charlotte's guilty look was the only confession Lizzie needed.

"You make me sick," Lizzie spat viciously.

"Don't, Lizzie. Don't do this. Don't look at me like that. It's not like I'm giving up anything. There's nothing for me in New York, Lizzie."

"Nothing for you in New York? What about your life? Your morals? Your friends and your-"

"What life, Lizzie?" Charlotte asked bitterly. "What life? I have nothing here. I work two shitty jobs just so I can afford rent. All my friends are off making something of themselves, and I'm doing nothing! I'm not doing anything with my life!"

Lizzie was stunned. "Charlotte. You are doing something. Sure, you've hit a rough patch. If you would make some audition DVDs and send them out, I'm sure you'd get something. I know it sucks right now, but that doesn't mean-"

"A rough patch, Lizzie? A rough patch? I can't find a job dancing! I haven't been able to find anything in months! Don't you understand? I'm twenty-seven! My best ballet years are over!"

"Charlotte," Lizzie said softly, reaching out for her friend. "You'll find something. It takes time. You have to practice and put more effort into your auditions. We can do it together if you want, once I get cleared to dance."

Charlotte brushed her hand away. "I won't find anything, and you know it! Especially compared to you!"

"You can't give up just like that, Charlotte."

"I gave up months ago, Lizzie. I don't have the body anymore. I don't have the feet anymore. I can't do it anymore. There's only so many auditions I can go to. I'm exhausted. I can't dance anymore."

Lizzie felt herself grow angry at these words. "You _can't_ dance anymore, Charlotte? You _can't_ dance anymore?"

Charlotte's eyes widened. "I didn't mean it like that, Lizzie. I'm not trying to be insensitive to you, I swear. Please try to see it from my perspective."

"Your perspective? Charlotte. There is _nothing_ wrong with you, nothing stopping you from doing what you want. Your feet are the same as they've been. Your body is the same-"

"It's not! I can't do a lot of the things I used to be able to do and-"

"So practice, damn it! Don't use your age as an excuse! You and I both know there are dancers in their forties! Get off your ass, and get into the damn studio!"

"I don't have time, Lizzie!"

"Of course you do! You said yourself that you have all this time and-"

"I'm not you!" Charlotte shouted. At Lizzie's wide eyes and stunned silence, Charlotte continued quietly. "I'm not you, Lizzie. I was never as talented as you. I'm not as talented as you. I'm not as passionate as you. I never even wanted this life! I only did it because it's all I had going for me! I'm not qualified to do anything except dance, and I don't even like it! The only reason I did it for as long as I did was because it was a steady paycheck! Now, even if I do find a job with a company, I'll be doing corps de ballet for the rest of my life. I can't imagine anything making me unhappier! I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing endless practices just to wave a rose in the background for a few minutes for a paycheck only slightly better than what I'm making as a waitress right now. Then when they've sucked the life and energy out of me, I'll have no options except to teach Pilates or something. I don't want that. I don't know what I want to do anymore. Collin is offering me some security while I figure it out. "

All Lizzie could do was stare at her friend in stunned disbelief.

Charlotte took a deep breath, and then expelled it. "Look, I know you're upset that you can't dance anymore. That's clouding your judgment-"

"Clouding my judgment? You think that if I could still dance, I would approve of you running away from your problems? You think I would approve of you running off with some guy you barely know because he's offering you a comfortable alternative? It's not like you can't figure out what you want here. It's not like-"

"Not all of us can _afford_ to just sit around, Lizzie!" Charlotte said pointedly. "Not all of us got wonderful severance packages from our companies so that we can just sit around-"

"You think I want that fucking severance package, Charlotte? You think for a second that I would rather spend my time 'sitting around' with money? I would give back that severance package and all of my money, every single fucking penny. I would give it _all_ back if it meant I could dance again!"

"And they would applaud you for doing it! You'd be hailed a resilient prima ballerina! If you could dance again, they'd pay you again in a heartbeat! That's the difference, Lizzie! No one wants me to dance! No one is willing to pay me! No one wants me in their companies! I don't have anything to do! I'm not qualified for anything! Collin is offering me a comfortable alternative, yeah. That's it, though. It's not like I'm going to be his trophy wife or anything. I'm going to be looking for work when I'm in Texas, Lizzie. I'm not just going to be living off of Collin or-"

"You and I both know that's what you'll be doing, Char," Lizzie said. "Don't insult my intelligence by telling me that you plan to work. You barely want to work now, when you need the money. What will motivate you to work when you don't have to? What will you even do for work in Texas, Charlotte? What the hell are you going to do in Texas that you can't do in New York? You just said you're not qualified for anything? How is being with Collin going to be any different? What the fuck are you qualified to do with Collin? Maybe be his maid? His housekeeper? His _whore_?" Lizzie knew that was harsh. She knew it before she even said it, but she said it anyway. She was shaking with anger. She couldn't help it.

Charlotte paled. She looked like Lizzie had slapped her. Quietly, she said, "I'm not proud of this. I'm not proud that I have to go to Collin for help."

"You don't _have_ to go to Collin for help. You have me. You have Jane. You could-"

"I couldn't, Lizzie. I can't. You and Jane…you're both so successful, and I just feel…I feel like I fall short next to you. I couldn't ask for help."

"Charlotte," Lizzie started, as gently as she could.

"No," she replied firmly, cutting Lizzie off. "Don't. I don't need your pity, Lizzie. I just need you to be my friend and understand. Can you do that for me, Lizzie?"

"No," Lizzie answered, all softness gone from her voice. "No. I will not sit here and pretend that I approve of what you're doing. You're being lazy. You make me _sick_, Charlotte. This, what you're doing, allowing yourself to depend on some guy for money…" she shook her head. "This would have been acceptable two centuries ago, but now? Now you just make me sick."

"Don't judge me, Lizzie! Don't you _dare_ judge me!" Charlotte yelled. "What the hell do you know? You've had it made for you ever since you were born! You were born to a famous mother and a rich father. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth and a pair of perfect ballet feet. You're smart, you're pretty, and you've got _everything_! You have no idea what it's like for everyone else, for people who have to work for what-"

"Don't say that I don't work for what I have, Charlotte!" Lizzie cried.

"Then don't say that I'm lazy! Don't stand there and tell me I'm a disgrace to your perfect independent feminist views!" Charlotte replied, unshed tears in her eyes. "Just get out! If you can't be a friend, then get out!"

"I am being a friend," Lizzie said. "Just because I'm telling you something that you don't want to hear doesn't mean that I don't care about you. Stay in New York, Char. We'll figure this out together. We could-"

"I said get out!" Charlotte yelled. "Get out! We're done! I don't know why I even told you! I knew you'd react this way!"

"What way?" Lizzie asked, gathering up her coat and purse. "Disapprove that you're throwing away your life to go be the trophy wife of some ridiculous creep?"

"Why is he ridiculous? Is he ridiculous because he doesn't fit your standards? That's why you're _alone_, Lizzie!"

"Because I have standards?" she snorted. She flipped the hair out of her coat and narrowed her eyes. "Don't make this about me, Charlotte. You know just as well as I do what Collin wants from you, and it's not a roommate. It's a _wife_. I can't believe that after all we've said about him, all you've said about him, that you'd be willing to shack up with him. I never pegged you to be that girl, Char."

Charlotte opened the door. Coldly, she said, "Get out. Call me when you learn to be a friend."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Right." She stepped over the threshold and said, "Hey, let me give you some advice. When you pack, don't bother looking for your _dignity_ to pack, okay? I'm pretty sure you lost that when you fu-"

Charlotte slammed the door in her face.

**February 22; 8:23PM**  
Even though she tried not to, Lizzie still felt horrible for the things she'd said to Charlotte the day before. She still felt that she was right, but it didn't ease her guilt. It ate at her. She decided to call Charlotte and apologize for her harsh words. She couldn't support Charlotte's decision, but she could at least be there for her. After all, if she was shacking up with Collin, she'd need a sane friend to talk to, right?

When she called Charlotte, she found the line was disconnected. So she put on her coat and walked ten blocks to Charlotte's apartment, only to find it completely abandoned. She asked the landlord, and he told her Charlotte had moved out early that morning.

Lizzie frowned but thanked the man. She hailed a taxi, not sure her legs and shocked mind would be able to carry her home. She bit her lip and stared out the window, not really seeing anything. The guilt ate at her with more power than before, and she had this feeling like she'd lost something really important.

**February 23; 10:02PM**  
Lizzie collapsed on her bed with a sigh. She was tired. She was tired of everything.

A few friends from NYCB had invited her out to eat with them tonight. She'd agreed, naively believing everything would be as it was. She'd been sadly mistaken. While they were all perfectly nice to her, she could see the pity under their forced smiles. They all pitied her. When she asked them, casually as she could, who replaced her, they looked around at each other, hesitated, and avoided answering. When her replacement finally did answer, she followed with abundant apologies. Lizzie didn't need that. She didn't need some girl to feel guilty for becoming a principal dancer. She didn't need it, didn't want it.

They asked her what she was up to these days, and when she mentioned physical therapy, the pity was back. The doubt followed it when she added that she'd get back to dancing soon.

Being with her old friends was like being with everyone else in her life these days. Everyone tip toed around the subject of her dancing. They looked at her like she was insane or pathetic when she expressed desire to get back into it. To be fair, her ballet friends understood more than anyone else how crazy it sounded. A ballerina without her calf muscles? Impossible.

Then again, their incredulity meant that they didn't understand _her_. Lizzie rolled on her back and stretched her healing leg up to her chest. She pulled up her pant leg and touched her fingers to the scabbed line on her calf. They understood the situation perfectly. They understood how much it would take to get back into dancing. They understood how hard it would be, impossible for some. They didn't understand her though. If they did, they'd understand that Elizabeth Bennet lived her life doing what people said would be impossible. She remembered an article that said she held one of the most impressive resumes in the industry. Well, how much more impressive would it be when she came back? Could you even put, "Survived a car accident that sliced up her calf, almost lost her leg, and came back dancing like never before?" Lizzie smiled. No. That would make a better headline.

Lizzie was tired. She was tired of the looks. She was tired of pity. She was tired of physical therapy. She was tired of waiting. Lizzie was ready to go back to doing what she loved most and prove them all wrong.


	10. I'mBuilt To Fade Like Your Favorite Song

**Author's Note:** Soooo, you guys are amazing! I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter (even if it seems some of you don't like Lizzie lol). Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your reviews. Also thanks to my beta for being wonderful and getting this to me even though she had an exam over 800 years of literature today.

Oh, and I feel like I should warn you that I have finals next week (UGH), so the next chapter might take a little longer than a week to get out (especially if I'm so depressed from failing them lol). Just a warning. Don't worry though. After final exams are over, I'll have all this free time to write. :]

Hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**Closer by everymonday  
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**Chapter Ten: I'm Built To Fade Like Your Favorite Song  
**

**---**

**February 24; 9:20AM**  
The apartment was clean. After finishing her physical therapy appointments, Lizzie found herself with nothing to do and no one to really entertain her. She was bored. There was still about a week before they did a final check on her leg to clear her to dance. Jane was still in Milan. Her other friends were too preoccupied with rehearsals and actually being ballet dancers to bother with her, not that she was really interested in seeing them anymore anyway. Lizzie went over the list of chores Jane had left her as well as a list of things that Jane though she should do if she had time and if it wouldn't inconvenience her. Lizzie had finished both lists. She'd even made her bed this morning in anticipation for her sister's homecoming. There was still about two hours before she had to be at the airport, so Lizzie decided to go get flowers for Jane.

As she walked down the busy street, Lizzie dialed Charlie's number to see if he wanted to come with her to pick Jane up. The number had been disconnected. Lizzie frowned and tried again, only to get the same response. Before she could give it much more thought, she spotted Charlie's face with the words "Goodbye Charlie!" She stopped at the magazine vendor, paid for the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest and stepped to the side to read.

Apparently Charlie had finished filming the season finale and left for Hollywood yesterday. Lizzie frowned, confused. Why would Charlie leave so soon? Jane said he wasn't leaving until May. Lizzie skimmed the article for more details, but it was just mundane facts about Charlie's time on the show and what the new movie was about. It mentioned that the movie wasn't supposed to start filming until June and said that Charlie leaving went against his original plans to stay in New York for as long as possible. However, it gave no reason for Charlie's change of plans. Did Jane know this? Lizzie was so confused. Why would Charlie leave so abruptly and disconnect his number without telling her? Weren't they friends?

_Maybe he told Jane_, Lizzie reasoned. _He told Jane, and he expects her to tell me. _Lizzie nodded to herself. Sticking the magazine in her purse, she walked towards the flower vendor, still not completely convinced. _It said he left_, Lizzie thought. _Maybe he just left for a few weeks to get some things straightened out, and he'll be back. Journalists never get all the facts. Maybe there was some miscommunication. _

Lizzie chose a large bouquet of daisies, Jane's favorite, and paid for them before walking slowly to her apartment, her apprehension growing.

**February 24; 9:59AM**  
"Jane?" Lizzie asked, surprised to see her sister unlocking their apartment, suitcases at her feet. Her flight wasn't supposed to land for at least another hour or so. Lizzie checked her watch to make sure.

Jane turned her head to glance at Lizzie, eyes bloodshot and face tear stained.

"Jane? What's wrong?" Lizzie asked, fearing the worst. "Why are you home so early?"

Her sister opened the door the apartment and walked in with luggage in both hands. Lizzie followed, putting her purse and flowers on the counter. "Janie," Lizzie said softly. "Are you okay?"

Jane sniffled and shook her head. Lizzie gathered her sister in a hug and rubbed soothing circle on her back.

"He-he-he left," Jane cried, squeezing Lizzie tightly. "C-C-Caroline emailed me and told me she was sending back a jacket I'd left at their place. She said that Charlie was leaving to California and wouldn't be back any time soon. I got the email, and I took the first flight home. I was just at Charlie's. Caroline answered the door and told me Charlie had already left."

Lizzie listened, heart breaking for her sister. "He didn't say anything to you about this?"

Jane shook her head emphatically. "No! He wasn't supposed to leave until May! Why would he leave three months early and not tell me, Lizzie?"

She didn't know how to answer, so she just continued hugging Jane.

"Caroline said that maybe I misunderstood Charlie, but what is there to understand? He said he wouldn't be leaving until May!"

Jane began hiccupping and pulled away from Lizzie, wiping her eyes furiously. Lizzie went to get her sister some water while Jane grabbed some tissues from the counter.

She accepted the water and took such large gulps that she started coughing. Lizzie took the glass from her sister and handed her a napkin. They stayed silent for a few minutes. When Jane went to go put her luggage in her room and didn't emerge for ten minutes, Lizzie got worried.

She found her sister sitting on her bed, staring off into space. "I must have misunderstood his intentions," Jane muttered, almost to herself.

"What do you mean you misunderstood his intentions, Jane?" Lizzie asked as she sat next to her sister on the bed.

Jane stared at her feet for a moment before answering. "He didn't really love me."

"Jane!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"Charlie didn't really love me. He probably just said all of that to get me to sleep with him," Jane said sadly.

Lizzie's eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at her sister. "No way, Jane." She shook her head. "Charlie's not like that. There must be some other explanation for this."

"There isn't!" Jane protested hysterically. "I've been thinking about it ever since I got the email, and after speaking to Caroline in person, I'm sure. There's no other reason for Charlie to leave without telling me."

"There has to be!" Lizzie ran her hand through her hair, thinking hard. "What did Caroline's email say?"

"Dear Jane," Jane recited, obviously having memorized the email. "While I was cleaning Charlie's old room, I found your jacket. I'll be sending it to you through the mail, so be a dear and keep an eye out for it, would you? I'd hate for you to lose such a lovely item. I'm sure by now Charlie's told you that he's leaving early for Hollywood early. He wants to get settled in the city and meet new friends before he starts filming. My only regret with Charlie moving so soon is that you and I will not be able to have more fabulous dinners together. I so enjoyed your company. Hope you're doing well in Milan. Do take care of yourself, Janie." Jane paused, turning sorrowful eyes towards her sister. "Is that not clear enough, Lizzie?"

"What?" Lizzie asked, confused. "There's nothing clear about that."

"Caroline said that she expected Charlie to tell me he was leaving early!"

"How did she act when you showed up at her doorstep?"

"She was perfectly civil. She was surprised that I was there, and said she felt terrible that Charlie hadn't told me himself and that I had to hear it from her."

"Caroline's never sorry," Lizzie pointed out.

"Lizzie, I know you don't like her, but I see no reason for her to lie to me," Jane reasoned.

"Other than being a bitch?"

Jane sighed. "Lizzie, please. Don't blame Caroline for this. She was just the messenger."

"Are you sure?" She was unconvinced.

"What would she have to gain from Charlie leaving?" Jane shook her head. "Charlie left on his own accord. He didn't love me. He just said it to get me into bed." Jane's voice cracked. "I was stupid enough to believe him."

"But that just doesn't sound like Charlie," protested Lizzie.

Tears welled up in her sister's eyes. "Well, leaving without telling his girlfriend doesn't sound like Charlie either. I must have just misjudged his character."

"Jane," Lizzie tried. "There has to be an explanation for all of this. Charlie loves you. Anyone could see that."

The tears fell and Jane shook her head again. "No. I don't want think about Charlie Bingley and his lies anymore, Lizzie."

"Jane, please." Lizzie reached for her sister, touching her hair.

Jane flinched. "I'd like to be alone for now, Lizzie."

Lizzie bit her lip, not sure what to do.

"Lizzie, please. I'm so tired. I don't think I've slept in two days. I'm just going to take a nap and not think for a while."

Unable to deny her sister much, Lizzie nodded and left the room. She stayed in the living room reading so she would be there when her sister decided to leave her room.

**February 25; 10:42AM**  
Lizzie woke up with a crick in her neck. After a few disoriented seconds, she realized she was not in her bedroom, but in the living room. She'd fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Jane to come out of her room. Lizzie pulled herself up and knocked on Jane's door softly. A soft voice told her to come in, so she did.

She found her sister sitting on the ground in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday, hair in knots, and eyes bloodshot. There were clothes and boxes strewn all over the ground.

"How are you feeling, Janie?" Lizzie asked quietly.

Jane shrugged. "I'm fine. I'm trying to start packing. We're moving in a few days, you realize that?"

Lizzie nodded. "We still have about a week, don't we?"

"February only has twenty eight days, Lizzie," Jane reminded her. "My lease ends March 1st."

"Do you need help?" she asked.

Jane shook her head. "I'm fine. I just can't believe I put this off."

"Maybe you should take a shower and eat before you start packing, Jane," Lizzie suggested gently.

If her sister heard her, she gave no indication. Jane was folding clothes and muttering softly to herself about how little time there was.

Lizzie walked up to her sister and pulled the shirt from her hands. She pulled Jane up with little protest and steered her to the bathroom. "Just take a shower. You'll feel better, Janie."

"I have to keep busy or I'll start crying," Jane confessed.

"I know, Jane," Lizzie stroked her sister's hair. "You should shower though. I'll make you breakfast."

"No, that's okay, Lizzie. I'll make breakfast. It'll keep my mind off…other things."

"Okay," Lizzie agreed, honestly not really wanting to cook. "Shower first though. You'll feel better."

**March 4; 10:34AM**  
A week's worth of showers and breakfasts later, Jane still wasn't feeling better, and it definitely wasn't for lack of trying. Jane had thrown herself into packing up the apartment, refusing any help from Lizzie. Then, when they moved into the new apartment, Jane put the same effort into unpacking. When Jane wasn't settling in, she was sleeping. Lizzie suspected her sister spent more time asleep than awake, but wasn't sure if she should say anything. Jane avoided the outside world whenever possible, skipping out on New York Fashion Week to the dismay of many coworkers and designers. Jane gave every excuse in the book, from needing time to settle down, extended jetlag from Milan, and not feeling well. Everyone was worried about her, but Jane ignored it.

So when Lizzie heard a knock at the door that morning, she really shouldn't have been surprised to find her mother on the other side with a bowl of soup and flowers.

"Where's my poor Jane?" was the first thing her mother said when she opened the door.

"She's still sleeping," Lizzie informed her.

"Is Charlie here?"

"No," Lizzie replied. "Why would he be?"

"He didn't come back from California when he heard Janie was sick?"

Lizzie let out a curse, realizing her mom didn't know the reason behind Jane being "sick." "Mom, Charlie and Jane broke up."

Her mother gasped. "No! He was so nice! Why would they break up?"

"He moved to California," Lizzie explained, not sure if she should elaborate. "Don't say anything about it to Jane. She'll start crying."

"I just don't understand." Her mother's lip was quivering.

"Neither do I," Lizzie muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." She glanced at the clock. "Listen, it's actually good you're here, Mom. I have to go to the doctor later so they can clear me to dance. You'll stay here with Jane, won't you?"

"Of course!" Her mother exclaimed, offended that Lizzie even had to ask.

**March 9; 7:55PM**  
Lizzie entered her apartment quietly. She checked her sister's bedroom and found Jane sleeping, as usual.

Jane didn't seem to be getting much better, and it seemed she'd even given up on trying to keep busy. These days, she barely ate and simply moped around the apartment, watching TV (but avoiding any soap operas) or sleeping. Their mother stopped by to check on her everyday, usually staying if Lizzie was not there. Lizzie felt guilty for leaving her sister to go practice, but Jane insisted she was fine on her own. At first, Lizzie didn't listen and stayed with her sister, but their mother said she'd be happy to stay with Jane when Lizzie was gone, so she reluctantly agreed. A few of Jane's friends came to check on her, but she refused to see them, so Lizzie or her mom made excuses saying she wasn't up for company.

Lizzie was not sure how to deal with Jane's depression. Their mother insisted that Jane would get better on her own, but right now they just needed to make sure she stayed healthy. That was easier said than done. Jane moved from her bed to the couch then back to her bed again. There were a few bathroom trips in between, but other than that, Jane was stationary all day. She didn't eat much, and would probably never eat if it weren't for their mother or Lizzie forcing her. Even then, she picked and poked at her food, only taking a few bites at a time.

Sometimes, Lizzie woke up in the middle of the night to find her sister crawling into bed with her, as they'd done when they were children. Jane would hug Lizzie tightly and sob in her arms. Lizzie stroked her sister's hair and let her cry. Every morning when she woke up, Jane was gone.

They tried to make conversation with her, but she rarely wanted to talk back, giving only monosyllabic answers. Every now and then, Jane would ask how the ballet was going, and Lizzie would lie and tell her sister it was going fine, because Jane had enough to worry about. She didn't need to worry about Lizzie not being able to dance again too.

**March 11; 9:32AM**  
"Dennis, if you love me, you'll come and coach me back to health," Lizzie joked into the phone.

Dennis Fairchild laughed. "You know I love you, Lizzie, but I can't just leave everything here and go to New York. Would you be willing to come to California?"

She bit her lip and stared across the room at Jane's sleeping form. "I can't right now, Dennis."

"Tough luck, kid. Want me to give you some names of some good instructors?"

"Yeah, I guess that'll have to do," she replied, suppressing a disappointed sigh. It had taken a lot for Lizzie to swallow her pride and realize she would not be able to get back to top form without help. Now the one person she wanted to help her was saying he wouldn't be able to. It wasn't that she was really expecting him to come all the way to New York just to help her come back to the ballet world; it's just that she had hoped.

**March 11; 10:30AM**  
"Yes, hi, I was just wondering how soon I could schedule an appointment with Mallory Gardiner?" Lizzie asks the receptionist over the phone.

"Mrs. Gardiner is booked until next month. Would you be willing to book for late April?" the receptionist asked in a very tired, well-rehearsed voice.

That didn't surprise her. Mallory Gardiner was one of the best private ballet instructors in the state, Dennis had told her.

"Yes, please," Lizzie replied, waiting calmly for the question she knew would come.

"Name?" the receptionist asked predictably.

"Elizabeth Bennet," she said as confidently as she could.

There was a pause from the other end of the phone before the receptionist asked, "Elizabeth Bennet of NYCB?"

_Is there another Elizabeth Bennet?_ Lizzie wondered. "Formerly of NYCB," Lizzie corrected.

There was another pause. This time, Lizzie heard some papers shuffling and a bit of whispering in the background. "Can you hold, please?"

"Sure," Lizzie answered. She twirled the pencil between her fingers as she listened to the elevator music, checking the list of other numbers Dennis had given her, hoping she wouldn't have to use them. She'd spent the last hour researching the names, and Mallory Gardiner sounded like her best bet.

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes?" Lizzie asked, holding her breath.

"Will eight o'clock on March 15th work for you?"

Grinning, Lizzie replied, "Sure."

**March 12; 10:00PM**  
Lizzie's cell phone rang just as soon as she entered her apartment. She balanced the paper grocery bags in one arm, kicked the door shut, and reached in her pocket for the cell phone.

She smiled when she saw who was calling. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey Lizard, how are you?" her dad's voice replied on the other end.

Lizzie put the bags on the counter and began unpacking them. "I'm fine, Dad."

"Dennis says you tried to get him to move to New York."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. Her father and Dennis were best of friends and she was a constant topic with the two men. "Yeah. I offered him a heavy load of money, but he still turned me down."

Her father chuckled. "I've always told you that money doesn't make the world go round, honey, despite what your mother may think."

"Yeah, yeah," Lizzie grumbled, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder so that she could use both her hands.

"I think it's good you're seeking help though. Did you manage to get an appointment in with Mallory Gardiner?"

"Yeah. It was like Dennis said. I just had to tell them who I was."

"You'll be back to dancing in no time, Lizard," her dad said confidently.

"I hope so."

"How's Jane?"

Lizzie sighed. "No better than the last time you called."

"Really? It's been a week!"

"I know," Lizzie replied.

"Honestly, I don't know where Janie gets all these emotions from. It's certainly not from me, and I think we both know your mother has no feelings unless it comes to money and clothes. Do you think your mother cheated on me, Lizard?"

Lizzie smiled. "Be nice, Dad."

"Why?" he asked. "You're not."

"Yeah, well, she's been really nice lately, taking care of Jane and stuff while I'm gone. I'm trying."

"Oh, all right," her dad grumbled. "How is the old hag anyway?"

"That's so not being nice." Lizzie laughed. "She's fine. She goes back and forth between being worried about Jane and me to being proud of Lydia and Cat."

"What are the Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber up to these days?"

Lizzie ignored the jab at the twins. "The twins are fine. They landed a contract with ABC Family to do a show or something."

"Ah," her father replied. "I see the other sperm donor is trying to compete with me. Well, clearly my spawn win."

She smiled. "I don't know, Dad. Jane and I are kind of sucking right now."

Her dad laughed. "Just a rough patch, my dear. Don't worry," he reassured her.

Though they were just words, Lizzie was oddly comforted by them, or perhaps by the fact that her father still had faith. "Thanks, Dad," she mumbled.

"No problem," he said. "Well, Lizard, I was just calling to check in. I'm an old man, and I think I'm going to go to bed now."

Lizzie glanced at the clock on the microwave and smiled at how early it was. "You really are an old man. I bet you have a glass of warm milk waiting for you right now."

"Wrong," he said smugly. "_Condensed_ warm milk."

**March 15; 9:32AM**  
"Are you in any pain?" Mallory Gardiner asked, looking down at Lizzie.

"No," she lied. The truth was that her legs were in a ridiculous amount of pain. It had been three months since she'd danced, and her legs hadn't been prepared for the sudden change. Sure, physical therapy and practicing on her own had helped, but it was nothing compared to the last hour she'd just had with Mallory Gardiner. Her left leg was throbbing and her right leg honestly felt like it was going to fall off any second now.

"No need to lie, Lizzie," the instructor said, sitting down next to her. "Any pain is normal. You haven't used your legs for dancing in a while. I'm impressed that your muscle can even hold you up."

Lizzie nodded, stretching her calf some more. "I'm not used to being in this much pain."

"It's normal," Mallory repeated. "You just need to build your muscles up. After that, I'm confident that it'll pass."

"Soon?" Lizzie asked.

"It depends," she answered. "I don't want to give you any time frames to get your hopes up."

Lizzie nodded again, watching Mallory watch her. Lizzie guessed she was in her early forties. Her light brown hair was showing signs of gray and she had crow's feet on her eyes. Mallory was British and had spent most of her ballet years dancing with the Royal Ballet Company. When she retired in her late twenties, she moved to the States to be with her husband, Edward Gardiner, an American. She opened up a private ballet studio two years after moving to America and opting to only offer private lessons to serious students.

When Lizzie had shaken the older woman's hand earlier this morning, she felt Mallory's eyes skim over her body calculatingly. The first ten minutes together had been spent filling Mallory with the details the press hadn't. The older woman didn't give pitying looks while Lizzie relayed her story, offering a few medical documents for further information. Mallory studied the documents with the same eyes she'd used to study Lizzie's body. Lizzie was questioned about her goals and expectations, and Lizzie confessed that she just wanted to be able to be the dancer she was before. Then, Lizzie was asked to perform some standard ballet moves. Embarrassingly, Lizzie had fallen over more than once. Each time, Mallory simply told her to get up and try again.

After the assessment, Mallory told Lizzie that she could help her be the best that she could be with this condition, but she would never be able to be the dancer that NYCB had hired. Lizzie had flinched at the bluntness of the words. "I don't say this to be cruel, Lizzie," Mallory had said. "I say this to be honest. I will never lie to you as your instructor." Following those words, Mallory proved just how tough an instructor she could be.

Lizzie sighed and stood up slowly, wincing at the unsteadiness in her legs.

"I can clear my schedule so that we can meet twice a week, but you'll still have to practice on your own as well," Malloy said, standing up as well.

"Thank you," Lizzie replied gratefully.

"Now, go stretch out your legs and we can decide what to do next."

**March 22; 1:36AM**  
Movement in her mattress stirred Lizzie from her sleep. Jane had crawled into bed with her again. However, tonight was different from their usual. Jane simply hugged her and sniffled a few times, then went quiet. After waiting a few minutes and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, Lizzie looked over at her sister to find Jane sleeping soundly. Lizzie smiled, taking this as a sign that Jane was getting better, slowly but surely.

**March 30; 9:22AM**  
Lizzie knew she was going to fall about a split second before it happened. She landed on her knee painfully, and instead of getting back up, she let her entire body collapse facedown onto the floor.

"Get up, Lizzie," Mallory said.

Lizzie ignored her, focusing on the way the cold floor felt on her face.

"Lizzie," Mallory warned. "We've talked about this."

Lizzie still continued to ignore her.

Mallory sat down next to Lizzie and spoke with a stern, yet comforting voice. "It's going to get worse before it gets better, my dear."

**April 5; 1:22PM**  
The twins were becoming troublemakers. They'd never been completely innocent, but they had never been so public about their habits before. Lizzie couldn't pass a magazine stand without seeing their faces followed by some scandalous headline. They weren't well known in their own right, but as Ford Model Jane Bennet's Half Sisters, Injured Ballet Dancer Lizzie Bennet's Half Sisters, and Former Actress Faye Delaney's Daughters, the media found a story.

It shouldn't have surprised Lizzie when she came home to find the twins giggling on the couch, passing a bottle of Merlot back and forth.

Lizzie snatched the bottle away without a word.

"Lizzie!" Cat hiccupped.

"Jane said we could!" Lydia cried, trying to pry the bottle from Lizzie's grip.

"No, she didn't," Lizzie said confidently.

Lydia pouted. "Well, she said we should make ourselves at home."

"We're more at home when we're drunk," Cat said, hiccupping again.

"Plus, Mom said we could." Lydia didn't let go of the bottle, and neither did Lizzie.

"Mom said we can do anything we want!" Cat added.

"We're going to be TV stars!" Lydia said, tugging on the bottle again.

"You think ABC Family is going to keep you when you're getting drunk for the cover of every tabloid magazine in America?" Lizzie hissed, finally tugging the bottle of wine hard enough from Lydia. She walked away without looking back at the girls, not seeing their faces pale.

"You really think they won't keep us?" Lydia asked, looking worried.

"If they want to keep their family friendly image, they won't," Lizzie replied, frowning when she realized the bottle was about four sips away from empty.

"They can't fire us," Cat said confidently, though her eyes conveyed worry.

Lizzie shrugged. "Keep drinking like you are, and we'll see who's right."

**April 15; 11:48PM**  
Charlotte emailed her. It surprised Lizzie, but she was glad to hear from her friend nonetheless. The landlord had told Charlotte that someone had come by to look for her, and then described Lizzie to her. So Charlotte emailed her, extending an olive branch.

Lizzie still didn't agree with what Charlotte was doing, but she felt that if Charlotte could forgive her for her harsh words, Lizzie could try to understand her friend's situation.

They slowly tried to rebuild their friendship through emails. Lizzie learned that Charlotte loved Texas, loved Collin, and loved Ms. de Bourgh, but missed New York and Lizzie and Jane and her other friends. There was no word on whether or not Charlotte was working, and Lizzie didn't ask, fearing she'd get angry at the answer. It was a tentative friendship at best, but it was better than nothing.

**April 18; 10:24AM**  
After months cooped up in the apartment, Jane left to go buy paint and groceries. Lizzie was sipping her tea and reading the paper when Jane came into the apartment, arms full of bags, rambling about painting the apartment in the next week. She didn't hear any of it. All she knew was that her sister had finally gotten dressed and faced the outside world. Lizzie began to feel hopeful.

**April 19; 11:21AM**  
It brought Lizzie an immense amount of pleasure to know that this would be her last time in the hospital.

She sat in the waiting room of the hospital, idly flipping through an old magazine, hoping the doctor would be ready for her soon. The sooner they started the check up the sooner they'd be finished.

"Liz?" a familiar voice called from a few feet away.

Lizzie looked up and found George Wickham making his way towards her. She smiled politely at him. "Hey George. How've you been?"

"Good. Haven't seen you around in a while," he commented.

She nodded. "People tend to only visit hospitals when they're sick or injured."

"Well, are you either of those right now?" he countered.

"No," she admitted. "I suppose people go for check ups too."

He nodded.

"So why didn't you show up at the party?" she asked before she could stop herself.

His face flushed slightly before he answered, "Hey, listen. Sorry about that."

She waited for him to give an excuse, but he didn't. Instead he just gave her an apologetic smile. It took her a brief second to realize that she didn't find his dimples as adorable as she had before. "It's fine."

"Let me make it up to you, Liz. How about I take you out for coffee sometime," he tried.

"Sure." Lizzie shrugged, not understanding why she only felt indifferent. "You have my number."

**April 22; 7:22PM**  
"How's the ballet going?" Jane asked while they were eating dinner in their newly painted kitchen.

Lizzie shrugged. "Fine."

"Lizzie," Jane said softly. "You can tell me."

Pushing her food around, Lizzie mumbled, "It's just taking longer than I expected. It's hard."

"But not impossible," Jane reminded her with a small smile.

Lizzie smiled back. "No, I suppose not."

"I'm here for you, Lizzie," Jane said quietly.

Lizzie nodded, but said no more.

**April 27; 12:00AM**  
Lizzie stared at the hands on the clock, watching them move, allowing her birthday to go as quietly as it came. Twenty-five felt heavier than twenty-four. At twenty-four, she had the world at her feet. At twenty-five, she could barely use her feet the way she wanted. It was depressing.

Lizzie hadn't minded the small family dinner. It was sweet and quaint. Her mother and Jane had worked to cook dinner and the twins took a break from their disastrous existence to bake her a lovely lopsided double layer cake. A few friends had sent flowers or cards. Her father sent flowers and a few of her favorite books in first edition. Her mother, not to be outdone, bought her a beautiful strand of pearls. Jane took her shopping and bought her a few new dresses. Mallory gave her a week's worth of lessons for free.

It had been a quiet, thoughtful birthday; celebrated with the people she loved, minus her father and Dennis, who promised to visit her some other time. The gifts had been great, and the food had been delicious. Lizzie had everything she could have needed at twenty-five, probably more than she deserved.

So when she blew out the twenty-five candles on the chocolate cake her sisters had baked, she wished for the one thing she _wanted_, the one thing no one could give her.

**April 29; 3:22PM**  
Lizzie came home to broken TV and a messy apartment. There was a ripped up magazine on the ground, papers everywhere, and shattered glass in the kitchen. The TV had a harsh crack in it, and Lizzie found the remote in pieces on the floor.

"Jane?" Lizzie called in alarm, opening her sister's door, not bothering to knock.

"What?" Jane asked sharply from her bed.

"What happened?"

"I saw Charlie," she replied flatly.

"Here?" Lizzie asked.

"No," Jane shook her head. "On TV."

The state of the TV and apartment made sense to Lizzie now. She sighed and went to hug her sister.

"I thought I was over him," Jane whispered into her hair. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Lizzie assured. "Nothing at all."

"Then why did he leave me? Was I not good enough in bed?" Jane's eyes filled with tears.

Lizzie pulled back and looked at her sister. "Janie. Don't think like that."

"I just don't know how he could do that to me," Jane sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I just want to put it all behind me, and I just can't!"

Lizzie hugged her sister tightly, holding her and letting her sob.

**May 2; 11:25PM**  
The problem with being a model and a recovering ballet dancer was that they had to watch their figures so they couldn't binge on ice cream. That didn't stop the Bennet sisters though.

However, after a particularly heart breaking day at the ballet studio for Lizzie and a heart breaking package was delivered to Jane (who could have guessed that her own jacket could bring her so many tears?), the sisters went out and bought a new flat screen TV, hooked it up, then watched movies and ate ice cream in front of it.

**May 15; 10:30AM**  
Sadness, Lizzie decided, smelled like the floor of the ballet studio. It smelled like endless hours of work, only to result in the god_damn_ floor. She often felt like she was choking on the smell of floor and disappointment.

She spent every day in a ballet studio: five days by herself and two with Mallory. Some days, she worked herself so hard and her leg hurt so much that she couldn't get up right away. Some days, she just sat on the floor, fingers tracing the ugly, jagged scar on her leg, mourning what she lost until Mallory would yell at her to get up. Some days, by herself because Mallory would have never allowed such self-pity, Lizzie sat on the floor, touching the dent where muscle was supposed to be, crying until she was blind with tears and rage and frustration and _sadness_.

Sadness smelled like salt water leaking, leaking, leaking from her eyes. It leaked and leaked, and there was no end in sight, no plumber to call, and no way to stop.

Sadness smelled like protein shakes and her fucking _weight _in vegetables and dieting like she'd never dieted before to build her muscles. She knew they were growing stronger, she could _feel _it. It wasn't _enough_ though, and that killed her.

Mallory said she was doing unbelievably well, but it still wasn't good enough. She needed to do better than well. She began going to ballet companies asking about the chances of her getting a job at this point, despite Mallory's advice not to.

Lizzie should have listened.

Some of the very people that used to sing her praises were telling her that she would never dance again. That there was no way she'd ever get a job with part of her calf muscle missing and a scar in its place. She sat in their too clean offices, staring at their various awards, nodding her head politely, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

Sadness smelled like artificial flowers in a room full of opinions. It smelled of blunt words followed by an apology, or an apology followed by blunt words, and advice that she didn't want to hear.

On the floor, on her worst days, their so-called advice consumed her, and she believed they might be right. She knew her feet weren't as fast as they used to be, her jetés weren't as high, and her turns weren't as graceful. Everything that had made her famous had somehow disappeared. On the floor, on her worst days, she wanted to just curl up and _give_ up.

Sadness smelled like a new morning. It smelled like morning air that she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth as she went on her morning run. Sadness smelled like the start of every new day, but the continuation of this feeling of utter hopelessness that she just couldn't seem to shake.

Sadness smelled like hours, days, years of practice that she felt should have proved her immune to this. Sadness was realizing it didn't. Sadness smelled like coppery, metallic, red blood. Blood on her toes and on her knees and on her hands and in her mouth; blood everywhere, reminding her that it was blood that started this whole mess. Blood, snow, and a fucking car accident that shouldn't have meant anything. Sadness smelled like sweat and tears that blinded her vision and a dizzying and painful pirouette that brought her to the floor again. Sadness smelled like the fucking floor.

The only person that seemed to remotely empathize her pain was Jane, because she'd lost something recently too. It didn't matter that what the things they lost were so starkly different. They understood each other. So they leaned on each other, as always, waiting for time to heal the wounds that couldn't otherwise be healed.

* * *

Wish me luck on my exams and tell me what you think of the chapter. :]


	11. Happiness Is Just Outside My Window

**Author's Note:** I was _super_ nervous about that sadness scene, but I'm so glad you guys liked it! It was actually the first scene I'd written for this story and it's gone through so much editing and I've read it so many times with a critical eye that I kind of forgot how much I liked it, you know? It actually started out as a random entry in my idea journal (for one of my classes last fall) and had _nothing_ to do with Pride and Prejudice. Then after I came up with the whole plot for this story, I modeled a scene around that entry. If you're curious about the entry, there's a link to it on my profile (cause I can't post links in this chapter, sorry!). There's also a link to a random piece I did for this story...I was just bored and suffering through writer's block, so I decided to try and cast people for my Lizzie and Darcy (without using Keira Knightley!). So yeah, check that out. I might do more with specific scenes from the story if I get bored enough...let me know if you guys are interested in seeing that.

Anyway, finals nearly killed me (two all-nighters in a row then a full day at final critique for my ads, then a French exam less than 24 hours later! I swear I had more Red Bull in my veins than blood for a few days!), but I'm obviously back. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was really hard to follow the sadness scene. I hope you're not disappointed.

As always, my beta is amazing.

* * *

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Eleven: Happiness Is Just Outside My Window  
**

**---**

**May 15; 10:30AM**  
Will leaned against the counter, trying to quickly scribble an update on the chart, but he could not concentrate when there were so many damn magazines lying around, especially ones bearing Elizabeth Bennet's face. The articles weren't even about her. He would know, he checked. The stories were about her twin sisters wreaking havoc all over New York. They were either stumbling on the streets drunk or linked with various older men. Some tabloids even claimed they could be pregnant_. Just another reason you need to stay away from her_, he reminded himself.

He tried to continue writing, but his eyes strayed to the small photo in the corner of the magazine cover, the photo of Elizabeth leaving a ballet studio, wearing only one leg warmer on her right leg, scowling at the camera. He found himself pondering, not for the first time, how her leg was…how she was.

To be safe, he kept his mind on her leg from a medical standpoint. It didn't escape him that she was hiding her scar at the party. Then, when he saw her at her apartment days later, wearing that ridiculous unmatching outfit, she was wearing socks pulled up to her knees, again effectively shielding her scar from view. He had wondered if she hid it all the time, or just when she was in public. At first he believed the latter, but that morning she'd been alone and was still hiding it.

_Why do you care?_ A voice asked him.

_I don't_, he replied back sourly. He didn't. He _didn't_. It didn't matter to him whether some silly girl was hiding her scar. Her insecurities were the least of his concerns. Her leg was healed, that's all that mattered.

As a doctor, he could tell himself that. He could distance himself from her.

As a man, he could not. He could not get her beautiful eyes out of his head. He could not stop hearing about the sound of her laugh ringing in his ears. He could not stop seeing the grace of her movements. He found himself wondering if she had been graceful before her ballet training or if ballet training had made her graceful. He couldn't stop thinking about Elizabeth Bennet. It was unhealthy, and it just would not do.

He told himself that he had lived twenty-six years of his life never knowing her, and he could go the rest of his life ignoring her existence. He could forget the few months he'd known her. He could forget all of her mannerisms and habits that he'd observed in the past few months. He could forget _her_.

_She wasn't anything special anyway_, he told himself. He could do better. He'd known women that were prettier than her, nicer, more mature…sometimes all at once. He could do better than _her_.

The only problem was that whenever he began believing the logic, he'd see her face again somewhere, either on a magazine or on some girl that wasn't her. He had to blink a few times to pick out the differences: hair too light, nose too straight, eyes too dark…

This would not do at all.

**May 28; 10:22PM**  
"Hey Will…It's me…Charlie," the voice started, unnecessarily. Will could pick out Charlie's voice anywhere, even laced with sadness in a recorded message. Will sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the voicemail. "I guess you're at work," Charlie sighed. "I was just calling to see how you were. Rich left a few days ago, and I…" There was a pause and some shuffling in the background. "I guess I've come to depend on him for company. I don't even know why I'm calling you. I know you're busy with work. Sorry."

Will frowned and debated returning Charlie's call. Separating Charlie and Jane hadn't been as easy as he'd thought. He'd separated Charlie and many unworthy girls before, but his friend seemed quite keen on staying with Jane and was completely content to wait for her to love him back. It was ridiculous! With the help of Caroline and Louisa, he'd secured an upscale resort in California for Charlie to stay at before he began filming. It was all so he could clear his head of Jane Bennet. To make sure Charlie wasn't too depressed, Will spent a week in California with him, and then his cousin, Rich Fitzwilliam, stayed with Charlie for as long as possible. Charlie hadn't been too happy about the whole situation – still wasn't happy about it – but it had to be done.

Love made Charlie weak. It blinded him from seeing Jane for who she really was. The girl had no interest in Charlie. Though Charlie confessed that they slept together and was convinced that meant she loved him, Will knew better. Jane Bennet was indifferent to Charlie at best. Sure, she smiled her lovely smiles at him, but she didn't care for him. At her party, she'd been more interested in mingling than staying by Charlie's side. She slept with him because it was probably in her nature to be so accommodating, but even that nature wasn't enough to allow her to utter the three words that Charlie longed to hear. It shouldn't be that way._ She_ should have been the one hoping Charlie would love her. Charlie was a great guy, after all. Any girl would be lucky to have him.

Then, she left for a week and, except for a short email, never contacted Charlie. No, his friend deserved better than that. It was only a matter of time before Charlie himself realized that too.

**June 10; 3:30PM**  
"Dr. Darcy?" a timid voice called from the doorway.

"Yes?" Will asked, not looking up from the CT scan. It offered him no good news.

"There's a man here to see you. He says he knows you," the hesitant intern said. "Richard Fitzwilliam?"

Will looked up, surprised. "What's he doing here?"

The intern looked afraid when she realized she didn't know the answer. "I don't know, sir."

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute." Will waved his hand to dismiss her. Relieved, she left without any further encouragement.

**June 10; 4:03PM**  
"When the intern said you would be here in a minute, I didn't know she meant in thirty minutes," Rich, said as Will approached. "Is that hospital time or something?"

Will shrugged unapologetically. "You know better than to visit me at work."

"You could at least pretend you're happy to see me, Darcy," Rich grinned.

"What's the point when we both know I'm not?" Will asked, fighting to keep a straight face.

"When do you get off work?" Rich asked, smirking at Will's lie. He put the magazine he was reading back on the table and stood up.

Will scowled when he saw it was a tabloid picture with Elizabeth's sisters in front of it. "Why are you reading that garbage?"

His cousin shrugged. "Just something to read while I was waiting for you."

Will continued scowling at Elizabeth Bennet's picture in the corner of the page. Would he ever escape this woman?

"That's the girl whose leg you helped, right? Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Yeah," Will answered, not bothering to lie. He knew Rich would see right through it.

"She's pretty," Rich said, looking at the picture. It was the same one that had been on the cover of _Pointe_ magazine months ago.

"She's tolerable." Will shrugged. Rich gave him a look that clearly said he thought he was crazy, but Will ignored it. "How long are you going to be here?"

"Just visiting. I went to see Ana after I left Charlie's, so I thought I'd make a nice little trip to visit all the relatives."

""You went to see Ana without me?" Will asked, disappointed he'd missed an opportunity to see his sister.

"You said you wouldn't be able to take more days off of work for a while after that week in California," Rich reminded him. "So I didn't bother asking. I didn't want to make you feel bad."

Will knew his cousin had a point. While he did have more than enough vacation days to spare, he couldn't leave the hospital for extended periods of time without falling behind in the program, especially if he wanted to get a good fellowship later. He had to be on top of everything. He had to_ stay_ on top of everything. He sighed. "How's Charlie?"

"Still depressed, poor sod," Rich sighed.

"He'll get over it soon," Will replied with conviction. "He always does."

"Yeah, especially now that filming has started." Rich agreed. "So when do you get off work?"

"I have to do some paperwork and then I'm free to go. You're lucky you didn't catch me on an on-call night."

"Should I wait around for you then?" Rich asked.

"If you want. There's a cafeteria if you're hungry. You can use my staff card."

"Really Will? Staff card?" Rich laughed.

"I wasn't sure how business was now that you're in charge," Will teased.

"You know, Will, I don't care what anyone says, you're truly _hilarious_," Rich said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Will smiled. "I know. Set them straight, will you?"

"I'll do my best." Rich snorted. "Should I eat now or do you want to get dinner later?"

"If you want to wait, I guess we can get dinner, but I might not get out for about another hour. I'm behind on my paperwork."

"I don't know why you left the family business for this gig," Rich said. "It's just as boring and has way less benefits."

"Are you going to eat or are you going to stand here and insult my life decisions?"

"Can't I do both?"

"Maybe at dinner."

Rich nodded. "I'll wait then. I had a lot of peanuts on the plane anyway."

**June 10; 6:00PM**  
Will couldn't quite remember if he had enjoyed the trout last time he got it here. Not that he'd be able to order any time soon, with the way his cousin was flirting with the waitress. He let out an audible sigh.

Rich didn't look at him but seemed to get the hint because he managed to give the waitress his order. Will followed, ordering steak just to be safe.

"So how's Ana?" Will asked eagerly as soon as the waitress left.

"You stopped my flirting just to ask about your sister?" Rich asked, grinning.

Will rolled his eyes. "I also wanted to get my food out before midnight."

"You're exaggerating."

"And you're annoying." He took a sip of his water. "Now tell me how my sister is."

"Still worships the ground you walk on," Rich replied. "Don't worry though, I'll corrupt her soon enough."

Will rolled his eyes again. "She's well, then?"

"Besides missing you, I'd say yes," Rich answered.

"She tells me she's well when we speak on the phone, but I can never be sure with her."

"She's grown up a lot, you know. You don't have to be so worried about her."

"I can't help it."

"I know," Rich sighed. "She worries about you too, you know."

"Why?"

"You're lonely."

"I am not."

"That's just what she tells me." Rich shrugged. "If you ask me, you've never been one for company anyway."

"She's young. She's always had a companion. She doesn't understand that alone and lonely are different things," Will said.

"You underestimate her," Rich insisted. "_She's_ lonely, you know. Maybe it's you that doesn't understand the difference."

"What do you mean?" He asked sharply.

"Well, before she left for university, she always had someone paid to be with her. That's not exactly a friend, is it? Especially the one that you left with her."

"That's hardly my fault," Will said defensively.

"I know," Rich replied quickly. "I'm just saying she knows loneliness better than you think, and she thinks you're suffering from it, especially since you sent Charlie away."

Will wondered if Ana had sent Rich here because she worried about him. He didn't know how to possibly assuage his sister's worries. He couldn't tell her that he was missing company, but not _Charlie's _company.

"Aunt Cath bother you lately?" Rich asked, changing the subject.

"Not really. She calls every now and then to tell me to give up this doctor dream, live off the family money, and find a suitable wife."

Rich laughed. "She wants Anne to get married soon too."

"The girl is Ana's age!" Will exclaimed.

"I know. She'd push Ana too if she didn't have Collin and Anne to distract her."

"Who's Collin?"

"Anne's physical therapist. I'm sure our dear aunt would try to match the two, but I don't think she deems them a suitable match."

"Why not?"

"Collin is weird. He's rather unfortunate looking. Though he has a lot of money, most of it thrown at him by our aunt, he's not what women would call at catch."

"Neither are you," Will pointed out, smiling.

"Hey!" Rich exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "I'm _very_ fortunate looking."

"Sure you are."

"Seriously though, Collin is weird. He's so eager to please Aunt Catherine that it's downright creepy sometimes. He's also got this weird manner of speaking that makes him seem really fake and rehearsed."

"No wonder our aunt likes him."

Rich nodded. "They adore each other."

"Maybe Aunt Catherine doesn't want him to be with Anne because she's saving him for herself."

His cousin wrinkled his nose. "I did not need to picture them having sex, Will."

"That's not what I meant." Will made a face. "Now it's in my head."

"Be happy you don't know what he looks like so it's just Aunt Catherine."

"There are so many things wrong with that statement," Will said, shaking his head to rid himself of the image before he completely lost his appetite.

**June 17; 7:26PM**  
It had been a while since Will had had visitors at his New York apartment. Ana had moved out last fall to go to university, and now she was taking extra summer classes to get ahead, which prevented her from coming home. Rich staying at his apartment made Will realize how much he missed the company of his loved ones.

He also realized just how demanding his work schedule actually was. It was rather easy to forget how much time he spent in scrubs when he was living by himself. With Rich staying with him for a few weeks, Will began to feel badly for his hundred hour work weeks because that meant leaving Rich by himself, when clearly his cousin had come to spend time with him.

"I really don't mind staying in your apartment and sleeping, Will," Rich joked as they sat his couch together as they'd done the past few nights Rich had been there. "But when are you going to give me a tour of the city?"

"You've seen the city," Will answered tiredly, watching Rich flip through channels on his TV. He tried to remember the last time he'd used the TV before Rich visited, but he couldn't.

"Fine. When am I going to see your friends?"

"I would never make them suffer through a night with you."

Rich laughed. "If they put up with _you_, then I'm sure they would consider me a walk in the park."

That was another thing Rich made him realize. He didn't see anyone outside of work. It wasn't an unusual thing for doctors. They worked so much that it was difficult for them to really have lives outside of the hospital. That, combined with his low tolerance for people, made it difficult for him to really have friends outside of the ones he'd had most of his life. He knew that if he told his cousin this, Rich would laugh and announce that it was his unfriendly disposition to blame for his lack of friends.

Will was not a people person. He never had been. He found them to be too much effort, and he had better things to do than to exert effort on unworthy people. No, it was much better to just keep the friends he had. They were enough for him. He didn't feel as if anything was lacking.

Of course, the moment he thought this, Elizabeth Bennet's name came from the lips of a little girl on the television.

"I want to be just like Elizabeth Bennet," the young blonde girl said. She couldn't be older than ten years old. She was dressed in a black leotard and pink tights, smiling nervously at the camera.

"Elizabeth Bennet?" The reporter asked politely.

The girl nodded. "She's my role model. Elizabeth Bennet joined SAB in the summer when she was ten. I'm hoping they accept me permanently like-"

Rich flipped the channel.

Will scowled. "I was watching that."

"You're joking, right?" Rich asked incredulously, but he flipped the channel back anyway. "It's just some soft journalism about ballet."

The little girl was gone, and now the reporter was talking about the demands of ballet on little girls.

When it was clear Elizabeth's name wouldn't be mentioned again, Will said, "You're right. Change the channel."

**June 24; 1:24AM**  
"I can't believe you convinced me to do this," Will muttered for what seemed like the millionth time.

Rich grinned and pushed another shot glass towards him. "Have some fun."

"This is not fun," Will muttered. He picked up the shot glass and examined the amber liquid. "This is my last one."

His cousin clicked his shot glass to Will's before throwing his head back and taking it. Will did the same, wincing at the strong burn down his throat.

"You're a lot more fun to drink with than Charlie," Rich commented, raising his hand to get the bartender's attention.

"Charlie's a lightweight," Will said, watching the bartender with too much make up on flirt with Rich momentarily.

"How about a Royal Fuck?" the bartender asked, grinning seductively at Rich.

"I hope you're not referring to alcohol," Rich slurred.

"I hope you _are_, ma'am," Will injected.

Rich laughed. "Forgive my cousin," he said to the affronted bartender. "He left his social skills at home."

"Rich," Will warned, rubbing his temples.

"We'll have four Royal Fucks then," Rich said to the bartender.

"You know I hate whiskey," Will told him. "And I also said that last shot would be my last one."

"Four shots for me then," Rich smiled.

"Can you handle four shots?" Will asked incredulously.

"Sure," Rich slurred again.

"I can't believe you ordered such a juvenile shot," Will muttered.

"I can't believe you even knew that whiskey was in it!"

"I'm twenty-six, not a hundred and six!"

"You act like it," Rich said, giggling at his joke. "Besides, I know it was Charlie that told you what it was."

The bartender came back with four shots for Rich and a smile. Rich took two shots without flinching. Then he glanced at Will. "Are you sure you don't want a shot? Royal Fucks are yummy."

Will sighed, trying to remain calm. He'd forgotten what a ridiculous drunk Rich could be. "Why didn't you just order shots of Crown?"

"Because then it's not a fuck. It's just royal," Rich laughed, taking his third shot.

This is why he didn't need many friends, Will decided. The ones he had were a handful enough.

**June 24; 12:24PM**  
"Why did I agree to leave in afternoon?" Rich asked, squinting at the sun and rubbing his temples.

"You didn't want to wake up early," Will reminded him.

"Fine. Why did I decide to get absolutely shit-faced the night before I had a flight to catch?"

Will smirked, remembering with satisfaction how he had woken Rich up at eleven so that he could shower and get ready for his flight. They had gotten in around four in the morning and gone straight to bed. Will was used to very little sleep, but his cousin was definitely not, and the hangover from hell certainly didn't help. Rich had been grumpy about Will's lack of hangover all morning, but really, what did he expect? Will had only drunk about a tenth of what Rich had.

"Don't blame me for you getting drunk," Will replied.

"I do blame you," Rich muttered.

"You should be nice to me," Will said. "You won't see me for a while."

"I hope it's a long while."

**July 15; 9:22PM**  
Will wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep. He'd come home from work and laid on the couch "just for a minute." That had been at 7:30, and now it was almost 9:30 and his phone was ringing.

Rich was calling him. Will rolled his eyes and flipped the phone open. "What?"

"You'll never believe what just happened!" Rich exclaimed so loudly that Will had to remove the phone from his ear for a bit.

"You just severely damaged my eardrums?" Will guessed.

"Will! This is serious!" his cousin said in the same tone.

"So is the damage to my ears."

"Will," Rich whined.

"Alright, what?"

"You know Collin, that guy I told you about? He just asked his girlfriend to marry him!"

"Why is that unbelievable?" Will asked, trying to remember what Rich had told him about Collin.

"She said yes!" Rich added.

Will's brow furrowed. "Again, why is that strange?"

"Haven't you met Collin?" Rich asked.

"No," Will replied. "You've just told me about him. Mostly that he's strange."

"He says he knows you."

"Well, I don't remember ever meeting him," Will said honestly, trying to recall if he'd ever met anyone named Collin.

"Well, fine. I don't think he would lie about this though."

Will shrugged. "Why does it matter if I've met him or not?"

"Then you'd understand why no one would want to marry him," Rich insisted.

"Well, someone obviously does," Will replied.

"They're both out of their minds!" Rich exclaimed. "Want to know why?"

"Other than the aforementioned reasons you've shouted at me?"

"They want me to be the best man!"

"_What_?" Will asked, now actually surprised. He didn't think Collin and Rich were good friends. "I thought you didn't like this man!"

"I don't! He apparently likes me well enough though."

Will was confused. Surely he must have his Collins mixed up. The Collin Rich had mentioned during his visit could not be the same one asking Rich to be his best man. "How did this happen?"

"I was just there."

"What?" Will asked again.

"I was having tea with Aunt Catherine. Collin came in to give us the news. Then he asked me to be his best man."

"How long have you known this man?"

"I met him a year ago when I was visiting Anne, and then I saw him again when Aunt Cath and Anne came to visit me in the in France last Thanksgiving. This was before he'd met his girlfriend."

"So you've met him three times, basically?"

"If you count this time."

"And yet he wants you to be his best man?" Will asked disbelievingly.

"Crazy, huh?"

"Tell me you refused."

"How could I?" Rich asked. "Aunt Catherine was glaring at me and Collin looked so happy."

Will sighed. "I wish you luck then."

"Will! You have to come to the wedding!"

"What? No. I refuse."

"You must! I'm calling in my favor you owe me."

"I owe you nothing," Will insisted.

"You said I could have any favor I wanted if I went to stay with Charlie for a while," Rich reminded him.

Will groaned. "You want to waste your favor on this?"

"Not wasting."

"You wouldn't have to waste this favor if you'd just said no."

"Well, I didn't say no, and I can't back out now," Rich said. "So you have to go."

"When is it?" Will asked.

"I don't know. They're doing a short engagement. I think it'll be next month."

"Next _month_?" He must have heard wrong.

"I think so."

"Well, what if I'm not invited? It'd be rude of me just to show up." This was his last hope of not going.

"Oh, Will," Rich laughed. "You know Collin is dying to give you an invitation."

"I don't even know a Collin!"

"I'm sure you'll remember when you see him," Rich said confidently.

**July 30; 10:52AM**  
Will stared at the name on the chart for much longer than necessary. _Bennette, Elizabeth_. Why was she in the hospital again? His eyes quickly skimmed the page to make sure it wasn't her leg. It wasn't. She'd had a minor heart attack and was having trouble breathing. That made sense, because she was _his_ patient now. He quickened his pace until he finally reached her open door and found her sitting on the bed.

"Ms. Bennette?" He asked in a cracked voice that was surely could not be his. The woman was not his _Bennet, _Elizabeth. Though she had dark brown hair and green eyes, she was about twice his Elizabeth's age.

The woman smiled up at him bravely. "That's me."

He tried to smile back, but couldn't make his lips move. He checked the chart again and realized his mistake. In his haste, he'd failed to read the age on the chart and notice the different spelling of the last name. He swallowed his shock and looked at his patient's eyes. They were the wrong shade of green.

"Ms. Bennet, I know the chart says you've had a minor heart attack, but I'd like you to describe some of your symptoms to me," he said with much more control of his voice.

She began talking, and Will tried to listen, but only half of his brain was cooperating. The other half was trying to figure out just when he began to think of Elizabeth Bennet as _his_.

**July 30; 10:52AM**  
Lizzie refused to give up. She knew it would be the easy thing to do. No one would judge her for it. They'd all smile their pitying smiles to her face and whisper behind her back. They would whisper about how they felt sorry for her, about how they knew it would happen, about how it was just so unfortunate. They'd whisper about how she should just be grateful she could even dance still, but Lizzie figured that if she still had the power to dance, then she could turn that into the power to dance _well_. Lizzie wasn't ready to give up, to look for a new job, a new passion. Nothing would ever compare to dancing. She loved dancing too much to give it up. She was too strong to give up. Lizzie had always been stronger than they knew. Always.

**August 3; 4:35PM**  
Jane came home with a paper cup of coffee, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and a make up free face, telling signs that she'd just finished a photo shoot.

Lizzie quickly changed the channel from MTV, where a very pretty reporter was interviewing Charlie, to a wedding show on WE. She glanced up to inspect Jane's face, which wasn't even looking at the TV.

"Hi Janie," Lizzie greeted tentatively, wondering if Jane was pretending she didn't see the channel flip or if she really just didn't see it.

Jane looked up from unlacing her shoes and smiled. "Hey Lizzie." Her eyes flickered to the television and she frowned. "Are you really watching Platinum Weddings?"

"Nothing else is on," Lizzie lied easily. "How was the photo shoot?"

Jane shrugged. "Good, I guess. I've never been a huge fan of Chanel, but they keep hiring me for fashion editorials."

"That's good though."

Her sister nodded. "I thought I'd never get work after the whole three months where I canceled all my bookings, but my agent says designers have been asking for me. I'm even doing Fashion Week."

"Well, it helps that you're the most beautiful model ever."

Jane blushed. "Thanks, Lizzie."

**August 6; 4:56PM**  
The invitation came in an elegant, off-white envelope with gold lettering. There was one addressed to Elizabeth Sophia Bennet and the other to Jane Olivia Bennet. Lizzie knew what it was and whom it was from before she even opened it. After all, very few people knew their middle names or had any real occasion to use them.

Sighing, she used her finger to open her envelope, reading the words she somehow knew would be on the page. Charlotte was inviting her to Texas for her wedding. Charlotte Aileen Lucas would marry Collin Richard Perry at sunset on the evening of September 3rd in Austin, Texas. The wedding would be held on the property of Rosings and the reception would follow immediately.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this. Charlotte had hinted in her emails that it was leading to this point, of course, but Lizzie was still holding onto the last shred of hope that Charlotte would come to her senses and come home.

**August 6; 10:22PM**  
"I can't go," Jane announced, walking into Lizzie's bedroom after hanging up the phone.

"What?" Lizzie asked from her spot on the bed. "Why not?

"Fashion Week," Jane replied, sitting down next to Lizzie. "I'm doing Paris and Milan this season."

"Can't you cancel?" she asked.

"You know I can't," the blonde replied sadly. "Maybe if it was a small shoot or something, but I've already signed contracts and everything. I already called Charlotte to apologize. So you have to go."

"Why? If you're not going, I don't have to go."

"Lizzie," Jane scolded. "I thought you were past this whole thing."

"Just because Charlotte and I are on speaking terms doesn't mean I want to waste money to fly all the way to Texas to watch her get married to some weirdo that she's using for money."

Jane sighed. "At least one of us should be there, Lizzie. She told me we're the only ones she invited from New York."

"What?" Lizzie exclaimed. "That's another reason for me not to go! Isn't Texas full of cowboys? They'll probably call me a Yankee and talk with that Southern accent."

Jane giggled. "Oh, Lizzie. Not all Texans are like that. Charlotte and Collin aren't."

"They're not originally from Texas though!"

"Well, neither is Catherine de Bourgh. She's originally from New York, and so is Charlotte. See? You won't be the only New Yorker."

Lizzie groaned. "Jane, I don't think I can go."

"You really should, Lizzie," Jane said softly. "I know you keep thinking that Charlotte's just using Collin for his money but-"

"I don't think that. I know that. Charlotte basically told me, remember?"

"Be that as it may," Jane said firmly. "I think you should go. Maybe you'll see that you're wrong and that Charlotte and Collin were made for each other."

"Doubt it," Lizzie muttered.

"Come on, don't you at least want to see Charlotte?"

The brunette bit her lip. Jane had a point. She did miss Charlotte dearly.

**August 15; 10:23AM**  
"Your feet are getting faster," Mallory commented. "Your jetés are also better."

Lizzie nodded, but added, "My right foot's still not as fast as my left though."

"We'll work on it. It's just a matter of refining your technique now. Faster feet, higher leaps, better pirouettes. Your movement is good, but I can see the work behind it. We'll need to work on that as well, but I'm hoping that'll come naturally as you get better."

Lizzie nodded again.

"I think we can start audition DVDs soon."

"How soon?"

"Probably by September, I'd say," Mallory replied, watching her carefully.

Lizzie shook her head. "That's too soon."

Mallory looked surprised. "I thought you couldn't wait to start auditions."

"What good are auditions if I'm not good enough?"

"I say you'll be good enough by September."

"I say I won't," Lizzie argued. "No company will hire me."

"Not now, but maybe in September."

"I don't think I'll be ready by then," Lizzie confessed.

"We'll see," Mallory said, smiling. "Your technique is good, Lizzie. You've been dancing for most of your life. You're one of the best dancers in the country. You've been working your ass off with me. It shows, Lizzie. I can see the improvement, and I know you can too. When you first showed up here, I had doubts, like I told you. I still stand by the fact that you won't be the dancer you were, so if that's what you're working towards, if that's what you're waiting for, you'll be waiting for a long time. However, just because you can't be the dancer you were, doesn't mean you can't be_ a_ dancer."

"I'm not denying that I've improved," Lizzie clarified. "I don't want to just be a dancer though. I want to be a _great_ dancer."

"You _are_ a great dancer," Mallory argued. "How will anyone ever say you're not a great dancer when they see how far you've come?"

"All they'll see is the scar," Lizzie mumbled.

"All _you _see is the scar," Mallory corrected.

Lizzie blushed knowing the older woman was right.

"When's the last time your muscles were sore for more than a few hours?" Mallory asked when Lizzie didn't respond.

"I don't know," she replied honestly.

Mallory smiled triumphantly. "They're getting stronger. Remember when you complained that your muscles hurt endlessly?" She didn't wait for a response. "Now, get up and we'll see what we can do about your right foot being slow. We're aiming for audition DVDs in September, Lizzie. I'm tired of you."

Lizzie nodded and smiled, feeling hope rise in her chest.

* * *

Come on, you already know what I want you to do. :]


	12. Certain Ppl You Just Keep Coming Back To

**Author's Notes:** You guys will never know how much your reviews mean to me. Thank you so much for all the comments, not only on the story, but on the art I did for it as well. :]

Also thanks to my beta, who is more of an inspiration than I think she's aware...and who I'm gonna continue to nag until she updates her own story.

I have more to say, but I'll save it till the end cause I don't want to give anything away. Enjoy!

* * *

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twelve: Certain People You Just Keep Coming Back To  
**

**---**

**September 1; 5:30PM**  
It was good that Charlotte ran up to Lizzie and engulfed her in a tight hug; otherwise Lizzie wouldn't have recognized her. Charlotte was wearing a green, _tweed_ tulip skirt with a demure white top. Her hair was about six inches shorter and her face had about twice as much make up than Lizzie was used to seeing on her.

"Charlotte," Lizzie greeted, struggling to keep the surprise out of her voice. "You look…great."

Charlotte grinned. "Thanks, Lizzie. I_ feel_ great."

Lizzie inspected her friend's face briefly and saw no deception in it, so she smiled back. "I'm glad."

"You look good too, Lizzie." Before Lizzie could even open her mouth to reply, Charlotte continued. "I can't wait to show you the house and everything. I'm so excited! Although, I do I wish you had decided to stay with me instead of a hotel."

"It'd be weird if I was the only guest to stay with you, wouldn't it?" Lizzie said, pointing to an old valise on the conveyer belt. "That's my stuff." She grabbed it, and Charlotte looked around.

"Is there anymore?"

Lizzie shook her head, holding her carry on and garment bag up with her free hand. "Just these."

Charlotte nodded and took the valise from Lizzie and began to lead her to the exit. "So do you want to change and then go to Rosings?"

"Change?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"Well, you can't wear that to meet Catherine de Bourgh, Lizzie." Charlotte laughed.

"Why not?" She was wearing old blue jeans and a soft yellow knit tee with a banded scoop neck and back line. She considered it an improvement from the leotard and tights she'd worn to practice, which she'd planned on just putting sweat pants and a jacket over, but Mallory had warned her that it would probably hot in Texas. Figuring she might as well change into something normal, she chose the first outfit she could find.

"You can't wear jeans to meet Mrs. De Bourgh, Lizzie. You have to at least wear a skirt or something," Charlotte explained as if she was speaking to a five year old. Suddenly, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

Lizzie was still annoyed at having to change just to go meet some woman, so she wasn't listening to Charlotte's conversation. She focused on not taking out her annoyance on her friend, especially since she hadn't seen Charlotte in more than six months.

By the time they got to Charlotte's silver Lexus, she was almost hyperventilating. "Shit, Lizzie. We have to go straight to Rosings."

"Why?" Lizzie asked, wishing she'd paid more attention.

"Dinner is at 6:30. We have to go now."

"That's almost an hour away! Don't you want me to change? I have to put my stuff in my hotel too."

"Austin traffic is horrible, Lizzie. We'll be lucky if we make it," Charlotte said, panic evident in her eyes.

**September 1****; 6:00PM**  
Charlotte hadn't been kidding when she said that Austin traffic was horrible. However, despite the bumper-to-bumper traffic and Charlotte's worry about both of them being underdressed, Lizzie enjoyed the ride.

Austin was a bit of a disappointment for Lizzie, who had been expecting cowboys on horses and tumbleweeds blowing in the wind. There were no cowboys or horses. People drove in cars just like in New York, though taxis here were noticeably scarce and trucks were abundant. People drove insanely fast, and apparently it was legal because the speed limit sign they just passed said 80. Lizzie had been expecting farms and fields, but Austin seemed to be a city just like any other. Lizzie began to think that she'd been watching too many movies.

"I'm so grateful that you came, Lizzie," Charlotte was saying.

"You're my friend," she insisted.

Charlotte beamed at her. "Thank you, Lizzie."

"Are you really happy, Charlotte?" Lizzie asked softly, not wanting to offend her friend, but needing to know the answer.

The older brunette took her eyes away from the road for a moment to meet Lizzie's eyes unwaveringly. "I am," she said with conviction. "I really am, Lizzie."

Lizzie nodded, deciding that as long as her friend was at least _happy_, she could accept this.

"I know you don't agree with what I'm doing," Charlotte said slowly. "Collin has been really good for me though." She looked away before continuing. "I've never been anything special, Lizzie. I've never been the smartest or the prettiest or the best at anything, but with Collin, I feel like I'm special. You know?"

Again, Lizzie nodded.

"I feel like someone finally sees me and loves me. I know this started out as just a way to escape the life I had." Charlotte winced at her admission, but continued. "Now, I really do love him. I love the way he makes me feel."

Listening to Charlotte's soft, honest voice made Lizzie feel even worse for the fact that she'd considered skipping out on her friend's wedding. She put her hand on Charlotte arm and squeezed lightly. "I'm really happy for you, Char," Lizzie said truthfully.

Charlotte smiled at her tearfully. "I'm so glad you're here, Lizzie."

**September 1****; 6:15PM**  
Talking to Charlotte made her realize how much she'd truly missed her friend, and she was sorry when the car pulled into a long driveway behind a very large three-story house.

"I can just try to find something decent to wear now," Lizzie offered.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, it'll be wrinkled, and she hates that too. Plus, where would you change?" Her friend sighed. "I'm sorry in advance."

**September 1****; 6:20PM**  
The first thing Catherine de Bourgh said to Lizzie was that her feet were disgusting. Lizzie had heard a lot of things about her feet throughout her life. A _lot_. People had called them fast, graceful, valuable, amazing, ideal, _perfec_t. Never had anyone every called them _disgusting_.

She looked down at said feet in question. They were in a pair of old, black flip-flops, peeking out from under her long jeans. She couldn't see anything wrong with them, really. They weren't dirty. She'd even gotten a French pedicure in preparation for the wedding, though they were a little chipped from practice today. Lizzie looked back up to meet Catherine de Bourgh sharp eyes. "I'm sorry?" she replied, not quite sure how else to respond.

Mrs. De Bourgh was a very thin woman dressed in a long black dress that made her look even thinner. Her face looked as if perhaps she'd had one too many injections of botox. Her eyes were a familiar gray color, but held no warmth. They bore into Lizzie's without apology. "I said that your feet are-"

"No, I heard you," Lizzie interrupted, not needing to hear the insult again. "I was just saying sorry. I'm sorry you think so."

"I just meant that they're scabbed and scarred. They're rather unattractive," she clarified, harsh tone not changing.

"A sign of hard work, I think," Lizzie replied.

"Hard work? What is it that you _do_, Miss Bennet?" Ms. De Bourgh asked.

"I'm a ballet dancer," Lizzie answered, raising her chin a fraction.

"Yes, Collin told me that, but you are no longer employed, isn't that right? It was all over the papers. Your company refused to renew your contract. Why do your feet look like they've been recently injured? I almost expect them to start bleeding right now!"

Lizzie clenched her fist, but before she could retort, an unfamiliar voice said, "Are you really giving the girl grief about her feet?"

All heads turned to the voice, but before Lizzie's eyes reached the owner of the voice, her eyes landed on Will Darcy. She recognized surprise in his eyes, mirroring her own, as she studied his face silently. _Was he here for the wedding? _She wondered. She was struck once again by just how handsome he was. His face had not changed at all since she last saw him. He was staring intently at her in a way that made her nervous. She quickly looked away, to the man standing next to him. He shared a few common features with Will – dark hair, straight nose, strong jaw line. His eyes were a warm, brown color, and he was smiling at her, unlike Will.

"Hello. Rich Fitzwilliam," he said to her, moving toward her to offer his hand.

She reached to shake it with a small smile of her own. "Hi, Elizabeth Bennet."

Recognition dawned on his face, and he gave a furtive glace to Will before turning back to her and asking, "Will's Elizabeth?"

Will and Ms. De Bourgh both scowled at Rich.

"You know my nephew?" Ms. De Bourgh asked.

It took Lizzie a moment to realize that she was referring to Will. "Yes, I met him in New York a while ago."

"I see." She turned to the young, frail-looking girl on her left. "This is my daughter, Anne."

Anne gave her a small smile, and Lizzie said hello politely.

"Should we move to the dining room then, Aunt?" Rich asked.

That got the older woman's hawk-like eyes away from Lizzie for a moment. "Good heavens! It's nearly 6:30! Yes, now that everyone is _finally_ here, I suppose we can move. I swear, it seems I can only count on Collin to show up on time."

"It's 6:28!" Rich exclaimed. "You said dinner started at 6:30."

"Honestly, Richard. I hope you don't run your business like that," Mrs. De Bourgh scolded.

**September ****1; 6:32PM**  
Dinner was served on a beautiful mahogany dining table. Stubbornness kept Lizzie from complimenting it. She sat down in her assigned seat with much dismay, wondering who if everyone in Texas gave their guests assigned seating for a simple dinner. Dinner started a full two and a half minutes later than Catherine De Bourgh had intended and she would not let them hear the end of it.

"I will not tolerate it again, you know," the woman was berating.

The two men looked as if they were listening, but Lizzie swore she saw Rich roll his eyes.

As Lizzie looked around the dinner table, she realized that she _was_ rather underdressed. All the men wore crisp button down shirts, Charlotte wore her tweed skirt, and Anne wore a very demure black dress that matched her mother's almost exactly.

Collin instantly began to engage Mrs. De Bourgh and Anne in conversation, and Charlotte soon joined in. Lizzie, who had no desire to converse with the woman, remained quiet as she stirred the soup around in its bowl, realizing she had no appetite right now.

"I trust you're well, Elizabeth?" Will asked from his seat next to her.

She turned to him, surprised that he was speaking to her. "Yes, thank you. You?"

"I'm quite well, thank you," he replied stiffly.

She nodded and turned back to her bowl of soup, believing the awkward, polite conversation was over and he'd continue ignoring her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open his mouth as if to say something more to her, but his aunt cut him off.

"How old are you, Miss Eliza?"

Lizzie briefly wondered if Collin still thought that was her name, remembering their time in the elevator months ago. "Twenty-five."

"Collin said you were twenty-four," Ms. De Bourgh countered.

Lizzie pondered why this woman would even ask a question if Collin had already told her all about her. "Well, you see, as months go by, people tend to age. Then, when one specific day comes, people move from one age to the next."

She heard a snort across from her, and she looked up to see Rich covering his mouth, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"I would think that by twenty-_five_, you'd have learned some manners," Ms. De Bourgh commented.

Lizzie bit back her retort when she saw Charlotte's pleading eyes. She sighed instead.

"Your mother was Faye Bennet, am I correct?" the older woman continued the interrogation.

"She still is."

"Excuse me?"

"You said was. She's not dead, you know."

"She's not in the public eye anymore," Collin reasoned haughtily, as if that was all it took for someone to be considered dead. "Your sisters are though. They're positively dreadful."

"They're just having fun," Lizzie shrugged, but even she knew that wasn't a good enough excuse for the twins' recent behavior. "They're cleaning up."

"Your mother has quite a fortune. It grieves me that she doesn't spend it on a proper education for you and your sisters," Ms. De Bourgh said, making her distaste quite clear.

"We're all quite happy with what we have," Lizzie replied. "No need to feel bad for us."

"Did you attend a private academy when you were younger?"

"We were all homeschooled."

"Homeschooled!" Mrs. De Bourgh cried. "How very dreadful!"

Lizzie knit her eyebrows. "Not dreadful at all, actually. Homeschool allowed us the attention we needed from our tutors so that we'd actually learn, rather than in a school where we'd need to compete for attention from an overworked teacher."

"Are you saying you don't believe in traditional education?"

"I don't believe it was for me," Lizzie clarified. "I don't feel like I missed out on anything by being homeschooled. I actually feel like I gained more."

"How so?"

"Well, my sister and I were tutored at the same time together, which made us closer, I think. That helped our relationship. I was also able to focus more on subjects that actually interested me and go at my own pace, rather than the pace deemed correct by the state."

"What about socializing?"

Lizzie shrugged. "I had my sister most of the time. Other times, we did various activities with other kids. I learned to swim, dance, and play sports with many girls my age."

"Do you have any talents?"

"Well, I'm a ballet dancer." Lizzie smiled, knowing that wasn't what Mrs. De Bourgh was asking for.

"Not anymore," the older woman countered. Lizzie scowled. "I meant to ask if you had any_ other_ talents. You say you took swimming lessons and played sports. Do you still do those things? Do you play the piano? Do you draw well?"

"No. I focused mainly on dancing."

"That's _all _you can do?"

Lizzie shrugged again.

"How awful for you," Ms. De Bourgh said, almost to herself.

"Aunt Catherine, what kind of soup is this?" Rich asked suddenly.

"New England clam chowder, Richard." Mrs. De Bourgh answered sharply.

"That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure because we're in Texas. Is there such thing as Texas clam chowder?" He stirred his soup around, a smile playing on his lips.

"Richard! I'm speaking to our guest. I don't have time to answer your childish questions." She turned back to Lizzie. "Did you go to college?"

"No," Lizzie replied, wondering how long this interrogation would last. She saw Rich give her a sympathetic look.

"Yes, Collin told me that."

"Then why did you ask?" Lizzie muttered.

If the older woman heard her, she didn't give any indication. Instead, she turned to the young girl on her left. "Anne was diagnosed with scoliosis over a year ago when she was seventeen. It was caught rather late, so we were worried. We moved here to get away from the busy New York scene and to get more privacy." Mrs. De Bourgh turned her cold gray eyes to Lizzie. "She wore a brace for a good amount of time, but we realized it wasn't working." Lizzie saw the girl's face color at her mother's words. "She had surgery over Christmas to correct it, and I'm certain she's fixed now." Lizzie wondered if the woman realized she was talking about her daughter like she was a toy. "My point is, Miss Eliza, that my daughter has had many more hardships than you and she still managed to continue her education."

"That's very admirable," she said honestly to Anne, who looked away quickly.

"Anne is going to be Charlotte's maid of honor," Mrs. De Bourgh informed her. "You must be very upset to not be in the wedding."

Lizzie recognized the bait but didn't go for it. "It's Charlotte's wedding." Lizzie glanced at Charlotte, who gave her an apologetic look. Then she turned to Anne. "I'm sure you will be a beautiful maid of honor."

Anne smiled timidly at Lizzie, but her mother, instead of being pleased by the compliment, glared at Lizzie suspiciously. "Yes she will. Tell me, do you plan on getting married soon?"

"No, I don't think so," Lizzie replied.

"But you are twenty-_five_!" The older woman looked positively aghast.

"I've still got time," she shrugged.

"Not that much time," Mrs. De Bourgh said. "Soon no one will have you."

"Mrs. De Bourgh," Charlotte said softly. "Lizzie's still young. After all, I was twenty-seven when I met Collin."

Lizzie shot her friend a grateful smile. "I'm more focused on my dancing right now."

"Dancing? Dancing won't bring you security like a husband will."

"Actually, I'd have to say that a husband won't bring me security like dancing will."

Mrs. De Bourgh looked shocked. "That's a very strange opinion. Don't you think you should give up dancing soon? When do you plan to give up this hobby of yours? You can't dance forever, you know."

Ignoring the fact that the woman had just called dancing simply a hobby, Lizzie replied, "I suppose that's why I'll just continue dancing until I can't anymore. If I had my way, I'd never give it up."

"_Never_?" Mrs. De Bourgh repeated incredulously. "Well, when do you think you will have children? Children need mothers to take care of them! How will you be able to take care of children when you are_ dancing_?"

"I haven't really given it much thought."

"But you're twenty-five!" the older woman exclaimed.

"So?"

"You should be thinking about your future!"

"I am," she responded. "My future is dancing."

"That is not a suitable future."

"Says who?" Lizzie asked stubbornly.

Before Mrs. De Bourgh could give another biting reply, Rich asked her, "What time does the wedding start again, Aunt?"

"Richard! How many times must I tell you? You are the best man! You should know these things," she reprimanded.

Rich gave her a wink and continued to engage his aunt in conversation, allowing Lizzie to eat her food in relative peace.

"So you're dancing again?" Will asked her quietly after a few minutes of silence between the two of them.

"Yes," she answered still irritated. "I started again around March."

"I see." His voice was hard to discern.

"I was cleared to dance," she felt the need to state.

He nodded. "How is it going?"

"Fine." She had not expected him to ask.

"That's good."

She wondered if she should ask him about Charlie. She was dying to know if he knew anything.

"How's your family?" he asked, voice strained now, as if all this small talk was physically hurting him.

"Fine," she answered, wondering if he was referring to Jane, wondering if she should ask. "Jane's at Fashion Week in Milan again," she said, hoping he would say something about Charlie now.

"I hear it's nice this time of year," he replied, disappointing her.

**September 1****; 8:23PM**  
Lizzie sat quietly on the couch sipping her coffee, trying to be on her best behavior for Charlotte. They were talking about the wedding, but Lizzie was growing bored. She wondered when she could politely leave without offending anyone. She tried to stifle a yawn, but clearly didn't hide it well enough.

"Are we boring you, Miss Eliza?" Mrs. De Bourgh asked sarcastically.

"No," she replied as politely as possible. "I just had a very early morning."

"What time did your plane leave?" Will asked.

"In the afternoon," she answered. "But I was up early to practice." She steeled herself for the backlash she was sure would come from that comment.

"How often do you dance, Miss Eliza?" Mrs. De Bourgh asked imperiously.

"Everyday."

"Well no wonder you have no other talents!"

Lizzie could not stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Anne can play four different instruments. William and Richard can play two. My niece, Ana, can play five. It's simply a tragedy that all you can do is dance."

"She dances quite well," Will said to his aunt, surprising everyone in the room.

Lizzie tried to make eye contact with him, but he was doing a very good job of avoiding it.

"You must at least know how to play piano," Mrs. De Bourgh insisted.

"No," Lizzie replied. "Not at all."

"You should learn! Every woman should know how to play piano."

_What for?_ Lizzie thought. "May I be excused to the bathroom?"

**September 1****; 8:39PM**  
Lizzie took her time getting back from the bathroom, not eager to rejoin the group. She let her fingers lightly touch the old walls as she walked, imagining herself in this beautiful house with people she actually liked.

No, that wasn't true. She did like Charlotte. Despite everything, Lizzie still loved Charlotte. It did help that Charlotte loved Collin now and that she was happy. Lizzie was glad for her friend, but she was beginning to think attending this wedding was a bad idea though. Or, at least, getting to Texas this early, a whole two days before the wedding, was a bad idea. How on earth had Jane and Charlotte convinced her to do this? What was she even going to do here?

Lizzie walked for another few minutes before realizing she was lost. She sighed, wondering if she should try to find her way back or stay put so someone could find her. Not one to sit around, Lizzie continued walking.

"Did you get lost?" a voice behind her asked.

Whirling around, Lizzie found Will's cousin, Rich. "Maybe."

He grinned at her. "They're all wondering where you went. My aunt wants you to play piano for us."

Lizzie groaned. "Does she think I'm lying when I say that I don't play?"

"She's very stubborn," Rich said.

"Are you going to take me back to Boredom City now?" Lizzie asked, reluctant to go back.

He shrugged. "I'm actually thinking about heading back to the hotel. Want a ride?"

She liked the sound of that. "Are you staying at the Omni too?"

Rich nodded. "All the guests are."

"I have to talk to Charlotte first."

"We can sneak Charlotte's keys out of the cabinet and get your stuff out of her car. We'll leave without anyone noticing," Rich said, misunderstanding her.

She smiled. "No. I mean, that'd be nice, but I should say bye to Charlotte. I have to make plans with her for tomorrow anyway."

Rich made a face. "We'll have to brave Aunt Catherine again."

"I know." Lizzie bit her lip. "I can go alone if you just show me the way."

"Nah," Rich said. "I have to get Will, I suppose."

**September 1****; 9:08PM**  
It took longer than expected to get away from Mrs. De Bourgh, which, in retrospect, should have been expected. The woman made her nephews promise to come back the next day, but only made it very clear to Lizzie that she was being very rude by leaving.

"This is all you brought?" Rich asked her when he opened the trunk of Charlotte's car.

Lizzie shrugged. "I'm only going to be here for a few days."

He nodded and took her one suitcase out of the trunk and put it on the ground as Lizzie picked up her garment bag and carry on bag. "I'm going to return the keys. Will should be around with the car in just a second."

Just as Rich's figure disappeared, Will drove up in a black BMW. She picked up her suitcase with her other hand and walked to the back of the car, waiting for him to pop the trunk.

Instead, Will put the car in park, got out, and manually opened the trunk. Then he gently took the suitcase and carry on bag from her to deposit in the trunk himself. "Did you want to hang your garment bag in the back?" he asked politely.

She stared at him for a moment, confused about why he went through so much effort for something when she could have just done it herself. Before she could think about it more, she noticed he was looking at her expectantly. "No." She cleared her throat and put her garment bag on top of her bag in the trunk.

He closed the trunk, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door for her, giving her the same expectant look.

"Thank you," she said as she got into the car and put on her seat belt.

He shrugged and shut the door. A few seconds later, he was sliding into the driver's seat and putting the key in the ignition.

"Are we going to wait for Rich?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to drive the car around the front. It's easier for him, and we're going to have to go that way anyway," he answered.

Rich was waiting for them in the front and slid in the backseat easily. "Collin is a handful."

"That's what you get for agreeing to be his best man," Will told him, looking at his cousin in the rear view mirror.

Lizzie twisted around in her seat to look at Rich. "How did that even happen, anyway? I mean, you don't seem like you like him all that much."

"Does it show that much?" Rich cringed.

"No more than with the rest of us." Lizzie shrugged.

"I was just around when he proposed, so he asked me."

"Really?"

Rich nodded. "Do you think that's how he got Charlotte to agree to marry him? Right place, right time?"

Lizzie sighed. "He makes her happy."

"Really?" Rich looked intrigued.

"Yeah." Lizzie turned back around in her seat, not wishing to talk about it anymore.

"So I hear Will saved your leg," Rich commented after a few moments of awkward silence.

She stole a glance at Will's impassive face before turning around again to Rich. "Is that what he's telling people?"

"No," Will answered quickly.

"No," Rich agreed. "He's very modest."

Lizzie smiled. "I suppose he did. He convinced me to let him stitch it up which apparently helped."

"Even though they took the stitches out," Will muttered.

"Are you upset they took out all your hard work?" Lizzie teased.

Will didn't answer.

"So is Will always this talkative around you?" Rich asked sarcastically.

Lizzie laughed. "It's an upgrade from when we first met, I suppose."

"I feel a story coming on," Rich grinned.

"Let's see, I first met Will at a party, where he talked to pretty much no one except Charlie and Caroline. I don't think he danced with anyone at all. He was the epitome of anti-social."

"Typical," Rich said, grin still in place.

"I went at Charlie's request," Will said defensively.

"Charlie was probably trying to get you to be more social." Rich laughed.

"I didn't know anyone at that party."

"And parties are just terrible places to meet people," Lizzie scoffed.

"I'm not a people person. I never have anything to say to people," Will insisted.

Lizzie grinned at Rich. "Should we ask Dr. Darcy how he could be a man of sense and education, and yet have nothing to say to people?"

"I can answer you." Rich grinned back at her. "It's because he can't trouble himself."

"I don't have the talent of conversing easily with strangers," Will said, voice full of restraint. "I do believe small talk to be pointless, but that's not to say I haven't tried. I just find that I am no good at appearing interested in things I have no interest in, and would hate for someone to have to do the same for me. I'd rather skip the whole mess."

"How do you expect to get to know people if you don't go through the painful small-talk part first?" Lizzie asked curiously.

Will shrugged.

"It gets easier the more you do it," she told him. "It's also easier if you don't think of it as pretending to be interested. You just have to push on until you find a topic both people are interested in. You just have to make it worth your trouble to practice. Practice makes perfect, you know."

"Your etiquette lessons are wasted on him," Rich warned her.

"I can't decide if that was an etiquette lesson or a ballet lesson," Will muttered.

Lizzie looked at his face, saw his lips curved up, and realized he was trying to make a joke. "Maybe the last part was."

"As well as the first," he said.

"Yes, so I apply ballet to a lot of things." Lizzie shrugged.

"Much better use of your time than piano," Rich added. "Do you really practice every day?"

"Yep."

Rich let out a low whistle. "I admire your commitment."

Lizzie smiled at him. "Four or five hours a day."

"Okay, now I just think you're crazy."

"Is it wise to be exerting yourself so much?" Will questioned, frowning at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

Lizzie pursed her lips. "It's fine."

"I just think that-"

"Will," Rich interrupted. "Don't _nag_."

"I'm not nagging!"

Rich looked at Lizzie. "He does this a lot," he stage whispered.

"The nagging or the denying that he nags?" Lizzie whispered back.

"Stop that," Will bit out.

"Maybe he'll understand how annoying nagging is if you nag him about something," Rich suggested.

"Like what?"

"Nag him about how he doesn't have a date for the wedding."

"Neither do you!" Will exclaimed. "And quit talking about me like I'm not here."

"I don't have a date either," Lizzie told Rich. "So we can't nag him about that."

"You could be my date. Then we could both nag him."

Lizzie laughed. She glanced at Darcy to see him gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. His face was unreadable as always, but something in his eyes made Lizzie feel badly for him. "Nah," she said to Rich. "I wouldn't make a good date."

"Are you just saying that because you're holding out for some prince charming at the wedding?" Rich asked suspiciously. "Because I'm going to tell you right now. I'm about as good as it gets."

She laughed again. "No worries. I won't be scoping out Collin's friends."

"Got a boyfriend at home?" Rich asked curiously.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will look at her as well. She turned her head completely so she could make eye contact, but he looked away quickly as soon as he realized what she was doing. "You just heard me say I dance for five hours a day, everyday. Do you really think I'd have a boyfriend?"

Rich shrugged. "I don't know what you do with the rest of your day. Plus, you're a ballet dancer. Don't guys go crazy for that sort of thing?"

"You'd think so," Lizzie answered ruefully. "Everyone wants to date a ballet dancer until they realize we spend insane amounts of time practicing and don't have time for them."

"It's the same with doctors," Will said quietly.

This time, he did meet her eyes, if only for a brief second, when she looked at him.

"That's Will's excuse for not dating," Rich told her.

She thought she heard Will give a sigh, but she wasn't sure. He wasn't looking at her, but at least his fingers weren't gripping the steering wheel so tightly anymore.

"We're here," he announced softly.

Lizzie turned back around in her seat and realized that they were parked near the front of a very grand hotel.

Will got out and opened Lizzie's door as she was just reaching for the handle. "Thank you," she said again, feeling awkward.

Rich was taking her things out of the trunk, and neither man would allow her to carry her luggage. So she walked with them, feeling even more awkward, especially when they waited for her to check in. It turned out that Will's room was right across the hall from hers, and Rich's was next to his.

"You headed to bed?" Rich asked.

Lizzie nodded. "Charlotte and I are going shopping tomorrow, and I'm really tired anyway."

"Have a good night then." Rich smiled at her. She found his easy smiles reminded her of Charlie.

"Good night, Elizabeth," Will said softly, staring intently at her.

The awkward feeling came back, but she ignored it. "Good night."

* * *

**Author's Note (part deux): **Okay, so I just wanted to defend my version of Charlotte and Collin for a second. I know Collin is ridiculous, and he has his own selfish reasons for wanting to be married, but I think he's a decent guy that deserves _a little_ credit. He is providing Charlotte with a good home, and like Charlotte says in this chapter, she's never been special, but Collin makes her feel that way. Also, note the wording. Charlotte says she _loves _him and the way he makes her feel (special). She never says she's _in love_ with him. So in my mind, it's plausible for Charlotte to eventually_ just_ _love_ him, even if it's not the kind of crazy romantic love most people dream of. That's about this story is about really, an exploration of the different kinds of love and how it drives people to do what they do: Lizzie's love for ballet, her love for her sister, Darcy's inevitable love for Lizzie, Collin's love for Catherine De Bourgh, Charlotte's love for Collin...So yeah, that's what drove me to write Charlotte the way I did.

As always, I'd love to hear your opinions (even if you disagree with me). So leave me a review please. :]


	13. I'm Holding Every Breath For You

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Thirteen: I'm Holding Every Breath For You  
**

**---**

**September 2; 4:01PM**  
Will needed to get away from Collin's ass kissing. He needed to get away from his aunt's unbearable voice. He needed to get away from Charlotte's curious glances at him. He needed to find Rich so they could spend a few hours away from Rosings. After about half an hour of searching the property, he found his cousin lying on the grass under a large pecan tree with Elizabeth Bennet. He ignored the strange sting in his chest as he approached them. He knew he shouldn't be annoyed at Rich. After all, his cousin had every right to talk to Elizabeth…to flirt with her. Elizabeth wasn't _his_, no matter what his stupid heart was saying.

Why did she even have to be here? Okay, so maybe she had every right to be here. Charlotte was her friend, after all. He hadn't realized that Collin's Charlotte was her Charlotte. Truthfully, he'd forgotten that they knew each other until Charlotte politely reminded him that they'd met at a Christmas party last December. He should have expected to see Elizabeth after that, but he really hadn't. Seeing her had been a shock, but not as shocking as how stunning she looked. Surely, he thought, his mind had played her up, making her out to be more beautiful than she truly was. He was sadly mistaken.

Rich saw him approach first. He sat up and smiled. "Hey, Will. Come to get away from Aunt Catherine?"

Elizabeth didn't acknowledge his presence, but she did sit up.

"What's with the boots?" he asked, referring to her dark brown cowboy boots, slightly annoyed that she hadn't said hello. He could see flesh-colored socks peeking out from under the boots, eliminating any chance of seeing the scar he knew would be on her right leg.

She looked at her boots. "Well, when in Rome…" she trailed off with a shrug. He couldn't get over how very green her eyes looked today.

He sat down across from the pair, and noticed Elizabeth give him a wary glance before turning away.

"Not everyone in Texas wears cowboy boots, you know," he pointed out.

"I know," she replied. "But I felt like I should get some anyway. I like them."

Not really sure what to say, he stared at her boots and tried to collect his thoughts. Rich said something that caught her attention, so he took her moment of distraction to study her. She was smiling and talking to Rich in a very friendly manner. It made his stomach twist, and he didn't want to analyze why. He tried to ignore it. A few freckles dusted her nose. He wondered if she'd always had them and he just didn't remember, or if she'd had too much sun in the last few months. Her eyes were brighter and greener than he remembered. She seemed happier. She wore a flimsy pale yellow tank top and cut off shorts. Her hair was loose, and he could see beads of sweat collected on her forehead.

"It's very hot here," he commented, growing tired to being ignored.

She looked at him, surprise apparent in her face, and then nodded slowly. "I thought it'd be colder since it's September."

"The weather's been very strange lately. It was rather chilly just a few days ago, I think," he replied.

Elizabeth nodded again. "Charlotte says it's always like this. Very indecisive weather. She's hoping it'll be cooler for the wedding though." She paused. "How long have you been here?"

"I arrived yesterday morning. I owe Rich a favor."

"I didn't want to suffer through this wedding alone," Rich said dramatically. He smiled at Elizabeth, effectively recapturing her attention. "I wouldn't have wasted a favor if I'd known you were coming."

Will rolled his eyes, but Elizabeth let out a giggle.

"So what companies were you saying? Before Will came?"

Elizabeth pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. "I was considering San Francisco. I think I want to get away from New York." She sighed.

"Just San Francisco then?"

She shook her head. "I'm looking at some places abroad. Maybe France. They've always been big on ballet. I would like to get away from the States for a bit, but then again, New York is home, and there are a lot of ballet companies here. Maybe NYCB will even take me back." Her face darkened significantly when she mentioned her previous employer. "I think I'd like San Francisco though. I'm not sure about leaving Jane." She sighed. "But it's close to my dad and I do miss him. I haven't seen him in a while."

"I wasn't aware that you were close to your father," Will interjected.

Her hazel eyes turned to him, slightly narrowed. Then she sighed again. "I am. I always have been. We talk on the phone and email a lot. I go see him when I can. I prefer not to alert the press about it so that he can live his nice quiet life."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "Have you started auditions, yet? That's what you're talking about, right?"

She shrugged, which looked awkward as she was still hugging her knees. "Yeah, we were talking about auditions, but a lot of companies don't actually hold auditions. It just involves sending in DVDs of your work and a few body shots."

"I see. Have you begun that yet?"

"No," she looked away. She played with her hair for a moment, before tying it in a ponytail. "I'm still not where I want to be yet."

"That's perfectly normal," he started.

"I know," she replied quickly. She plucked up a few blades of grass and began shredding them with her fingers.

"How long until you think you'll be ready?" Rich asked tentatively.

She began throwing the pieces of grass she was shredding, rather than just letting them drop. "I'm not sure," she said quietly. "Hopefully soon. Mallory says soon, but I don't know."

"Who's Mallory?" Will asked.

"Her trainer," Rich answered quickly.

Will scowled at him. How long had they been out here?

"You should just tape yourself saying, 'I'm Elizabeth Bennet, damn it,'" Rich joked, ignoring Will.

Elizabeth let out a small laugh. "Maybe that would have worked a year ago. Now I'm sure they're ready to rip me to shreds."

"Nah," Rich said. "They'd be impressed by your nerve."

"I'd like them to be impressed by my _dancing_." She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and began playing with the hair tie, stretching it in her fingers, putting it on her wrist, and then taking it off again.

Will tried to think of something to say to get the worry out of her eyes, but before he could, Rich's phone vibrated.

"Bloody hell," he swore when he looked at the phone. "I've got to go."

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed.

"They want to talk more about the wedding and the rehearsal dinner." He sighed. "I'll catch up with you two later."

They both silently watched him leave.

"I like him," Elizabeth commented, still messing with her hair tie.

He knew that she hadn't just punched him in the gut, but goddamn it, it as hell sure_ felt_ like she had. "He's very likable."

"He's like a nicer version of you."

Will winced. There was the right hook. "You could say that."

"He doesn't nag like you do either."

"I get it," he said in a tone much harsher than he meant. He could feel her eyes on him, but forced himself to stare at her hand as it threaded its fingers through the hair tie.

"So how've you been?" she asked.

He was glad she dropped the subject of Rich. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his cousin with her. "Good. You?"

"Fine." She sighed.

This made him look up at her. "What?"

"You really are no good at small talk."

"Script the conversation again then."

Elizabeth smiled a little. He wished she would do that more around him. She seemed to give her smiles freely to everyone but him. "Well, what have you been doing the past," she paused to think. "Six months?"

_Thinking about you and your bloody leg_, he wanted to scream at her. "Just working."

"All I've been doing is dancing, I guess."

"We're boring people," he observed.

She grinned. "We're just two people very into what we do."

"That's true."

"It's better than being those people who are just going through the motions in a job that they have no real love for."

"I suppose."

"Just suppose?" she asked curiously.

Will shrugged. "Not everyone has the luxury of finding the job they want and being good at it. Sometimes it's just one or the other."

"Not if you try hard enough," Elizabeth insisted.

"You think so?" Will asked, watching her eyebrows furrow. "You think that if someone just _wanted_ to be a ballet dancer, and they _tried _hard enough, even with the wrong feet and body or whatever, they could be where you are? Or if a boy wanted to be a basketball player, and he was only 5'3, he could make it to the NBA?"

"I guess you're right." She pouted. Will tried to ignore how adorable it was. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. "Margot Fonteyn didn't have great feet, and she became one of the best ballet dancers of the century. As for basketball, there was that guy." She paused and chewed on her thumbnail for a second before running her hand through her hair. "God, I know his name, I swear. He was, like, four foot something and he made it to the NBA."

"Four foot something?" Will stared at her, amused at the contemplative look on her face.

"Okay, maybe not four foot something," Elizabeth waved her hand that wasn't messing with the hair tie. "But he was _short_."

"How short though? I could be considered short in the NBA."

"What are you? Like, six foot? I don't think that's short in the NBA." She began to tie her hair again.

"I believe I'm six foot two."

"I think he was five foot something. I'll Google it, but I know he exists, so that means both your examples are null and void," she said triumphantly, ignoring his last statement.

He smiled at her. "For now, only one of them is null and void."

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Alright, but next time I see you, they'll both be."

"My point still stands though."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Your point has no legs to stand on! Both your examples suck."

"You knocking down my examples doesn't mean my point is void. You pointed out exceptions. Not everyone is exceptional."

"God, I hope your pessimism isn't contagious." The pout was back.

He let out a very real laugh that sounded a bit foreign to his ears. Had it really been so long since he'd laughed? "It's not pessimistic, Elizabeth. It's reality. Not every child will have what it takes to make his dreams come true. Not all kids are smart enough to be astronauts. Not all kids are charismatic enough to be president. Not all kids are pretty enough to be models."

"God, you're awful." She shook her head. "They should be able to_ try_ though, shouldn't they? No one should ever tell them, 'You're not good enough to be a doctor.'"

"No, of course not." Will agreed. "But back to your original statement about how people having jobs they have no love for. These people are in these jobs because they weren't good enough for their first choice."

Again, she shook her head, a few strands of brown hair falling out of her loose ponytail. He resisted the urge to push them behind her ears and out of her face. "Not necessarily. Something could have happened."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe their parents couldn't pay for them to go to medical school. Maybe they flunked calculus because they were busy working to support their sick mother. Maybe-" she stopped. He thought he saw her eyes shift from their playful sparkle to a familiar kind of sadness. She shrugged. "I'm just saying I consider myself lucky to be doing what I really truly love."

"Would it be so awful to just be doing something you're good at and pays you well enough to live comfortably?"

"What's life without love and passion, Will?" Her eyes were fiercely bright now. "I want everything I do to be full of passion. I want to put all of me into whatever I do."

"It's just not very practical," Will tried to reason.

She ran a hand through her hair and took the hair tie out again. "Are we talking about me now?"

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"Why isn't it practical?" She seemed more curious than angry. That was good.

"When you put all of yourself into something, you put all of yourself out there to be hurt or disappointed," Will explained. "I think I mean that generally."

Elizabeth nodded. "That's true, but if it turns out well, you put all of yourself out there to be happy."

"It's a gamble," he agreed.

"One you don't think is worth risking," she concluded.

"I didn't say that," Will frowned.

She broke eye contact and stared at her hands, which were still messing with that damn hair tie. "You should try it one day, you know. Put yourself completely out there, wear your heart on your sleeve, love something with every single cell in your body." She looked up at him and shrugged. "It might blow up in your face and hurt like hell, but in the end, I think that it's a waste to have a heart capable of loving, but not using it."

Will remained silent, trying to think of something to say. It was difficult to form thoughts and words when her gorgeous, passion-filled eyes were staring into his. Suddenly, he felt a harsh sting in his left eye.

"Oh, fuck!" Elizabeth exclaimed, moving onto her knees to get a closer look at him. "I'm so sorry!"

Will covered his eye with his hand and stared at her with his good eye, wondering why she was apologizing. He looked around with his good eye to figure out what had hit him. He spotted her hair tie on the ground near his foot and realized that she'd shot it, accidentally he hoped, at him.

"It's fine," he replied. He took his hand away to test his eye. It began to water, but at least he could still see. He tried to blink rapidly to rid the tears and blurriness from his vision.

"Here," she said, moving into his personal space. "Let me see it." Before he could protest, she gently slapped his hands away from his face and took his chin in one of her hands. For a moment, she was all that was in his line of vision. He'd never been this close to her, and she was pervading all of his senses, making it difficult for him to compose his thoughts. He tried to control his breathing and his heart to an acceptable rate, but failed. This close up, he could see that her eyes really were just green with many brown freckles dancing in them, making them look hazel. He saw the corners of her eyes crinkle and heard her give a soft laugh.

"I have to be honest with you, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be looking at."

He laughed, but the sound came out more choked than he'd intended. "I suppose you should just make sure it's not bleeding."

"It's not," she declared. "It's a little red."

"Then it's alright."

"Are you sure? Do you want to go inside?"

He opened his mouth to tell her he was fine, but at that moment, Rich's voice interrupted them.

"What are you kids _doing_?" Rich asked.

Elizabeth turned her head and removed her hand from his chin. "I shot Will in the eye with my hair tie."

Rich laughed. "God, I know you don't like him very much, but did you really need to _blind_ him?"

"It was an accident," she insisted.

Rich sat down, and Elizabeth scooted back so that she was sitting next to him.

"I'm supposed to tell you the Lucases are here," Rich told her.

"Oh!" Elizabeth began to get up. "I should go say hi."

"Are you going to the rehearsal dinner tonight?" Rich asked her, watching her dust herself off.

"Nope, I'm not part of the wedding, luckily. I'm so glad Charlotte decided to make Anne her maid of honor and have no bridesmaid."

"It's because Collin doesn't have enough friends to be groomsmen," Rich told her.

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter why to me. I'm just happy to be out of the wedding. I'd like to see as little of your aunt as possible."

"Yeah, lucky you," Will muttered.

She laughed, and then looked at her watch. "I think I'm going to leave after I talk to Charlotte's parents."

"Do you want a ride back to the hotel?" Will asked.

She seemed confused by his offer. "No, thanks. You have to go to the rehearsal dinner, don't you?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't mind driving you back though."

"No need." She smiled at Rich. "See you at the wedding then."

Rich smiled back easily. "See you."

Then Elizabeth turned her eyes back to Will, her smile noticeably less bright. She even seemed nervous, but he knew that couldn't be right. "You too, Will."

He nodded and watched her jog back into the house.

"So," Rich started as soon as Elizabeth was out of earshot. "Back in New York, when you told me she was_ tolerable_, I didn't realize that what you meant was that you had a mad crush on her."

Will looked up sharply at his cousin's words. "What?"

"You heard me." Rich grinned.

"Does anyone out of high school even use the word crush?" Will asked, avoiding Rich's accusation.

"It's almost adorable how you glare daggers at me every time I take her attention away from you." Rich laughed.

"Don't make me sound like a sullen toddler."

"So it's true, right?" Rich asked, very eager for a confirmation. "You like her."

"You like her too," Will accused.

"Sure I do." Rich shrugged. "She's pretty, smart, strong enough to hold her own with Aunt Catherine, and very passionate about what she does. What's not to like?" When Will didn't say anything, Rich added, "I just don't like her the way _you_ like her."

Will rolled his eyes. "And how do I like her?"

"You know better than I do."

"Is there even a point to denying this?"

Rich grinned again. "Probably not."

Will stared at her forgotten hair tie still on the ground near his foot. "She likes _you _though."

"Just the way that I like her: as friends."

Will was doubtful, but he said nothing. He didn't like this conversation, and he wanted it to end.

"You should tell her how-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Will interrupted, hoping Rich would comply.

"Fine, let's talk about you coming over my room for drinks tonight."

"Why are we drinking tonight?"

Rich gave him a meaningful look. "We'll need it after the rehearsal dinner."

**September 2; 10:55PM**  
When Rich told Will to come over for a few drinks, Will had no idea Collin would be there. His cousin had obviously done that on purpose, because if he had known, he wouldn't have showed up.

The rehearsal dinner had been bad enough. Will couldn't imagine what more time with Collin would do to his sanity.

"Where's Rich?" Will asked cautiously, looking around the room.

Collin was sitting on a chair, looking quite anxious. "He said he'd be right back with more alcohol." Will noticed Collin had a half empty glass of what looked like Coke, but judging by the deep flush on the man's face, Will was sure there was something else in the drink.

"There's some whiskey over there if you want some," Collin informed him, pointing to the bar. "There's mixers in the fridge."

Will nodded, trying to decide if he should wait for Rich to come back before leaving.

Just then, Rich opened the door with a few more bottles in his hands. "Oh good, you're here," he said to Will. "I bought you some brandy since I know you hate whiskey. Collin here wanted wine coolers, but I told him men don't drink wine coolers."

"I should be able to drink whatever I want at my bachelor party!" Collin cried.

"Shut up, Collin." Rich put the bottles on the bar and looked at Will expectantly. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave," Will replied decisively. "You didn't tell me this was a bachelor party!"

Rich blocked his way. "Just stay for a little while," Rich pleaded softly. "He doesn't have any friends, and every man deserves a bachelor party."

Will stared from Rich to Collin, then back to Rich again. "I would, but I really must," he hesitated, trying to think of a suitable excuse. "I have to email Ana."

"Email Ana?" Rich repeated incredulously.

"Yes." Will nodded. "She expects an email from me everyday, you know."

"Does she now?"

"Yes." Will tried to move around Rich, but he wouldn't have it.

"You are a terrible liar, William Darcy."

"I'm not lying!" Will insisted.

"You are," Rich said. "And you're awful at it."

Will groaned. "Fine. I'm lying, but that should tell you something about my desire to be here."

"Just stay for an hour or so. Have some drinks. It'll be fine." Rich pressed a bottle of brandy into his hands.

He sighed. "Fine."

**September 2; 11:29PM**  
Three glasses of fine brandy and half an hour later, Will had a pleasant buzz going, and he could almost tolerate Rich and Collin's discussion of breasts.

"Size is all that matters!" Collin insisted with a hiccup.

"So you'd take Pamela Anderson over Megan Fox?" Rich asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Collin nodded emphatically. "Size is all that matters!"

Will, from his seat in the corner, away from the two, couldn't help but wonder if Collin had an issue with size for personal reasons. He shook his head to rid himself of such disgusting images.

"I agree it's nice for them to be a decent size," Rich was saying with a grin. "But big tits are useless if they're on an ugly face, Collin."

"Women can wear paper bags to cover their faces!" Collin chugged the rest of his drink. "They can't hide their small breasts with anything!"

Rich turned to give Will a look of pure joy. Apparently his cousin was having a wonderful time with a drunken Collin.

"I need more alcohol!" Collin yelled suddenly. "My glass is _empty_!"

"Go get some," Rich told him.

Collin tried to steady himself. It took a few attempts, but he did it. Instead of going to the bar, Collin stumbled toward Will. "What are you drinking, Mr. Darcy?"

"Brandy." Will took a sip of said brandy, hoping it would make Collin's voice less annoying.

"My esteemed employer-ess," Collin hissed the end of the word for a moment. "Mrs. Boss Lady Administrator Role Model Supervisor Lady Catherine de Bourgh drinks brandy!"

Will knew this, of course. "I see."

Collin nodded again. It looked as if perhaps that he was having trouble lifting his head up. "She's in charge of me."

"I know." Will took another sip of his drink.

"I love her."

Will heard Rich give a drunken giggle at Collin's words. "I know," Will repeated.

"I must try the brandy! Mrs. De Bourgh never allows me to drink on the job."

"Yes, I can see why."

"May I try your brandy, Mr. Darcy?" Collinyelled, even though he was standing right in front of him.

Will winced. "Go ahead."

Instead of taking the bottle and pouring himself a glass, Collin took Will's glass out of his hand and finished it without stopping, leaving Will and Rich both staring at him, slack-jawed.

Collin began hiccupping. "I think I need more."

"Pour it yourself." Will handed him the bottle.

As Collin was carefully pouring the brandy, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Rich exclaimed, as if the rest of them were fighting to answer the door.

Collin's glass began overflowing because he wasn't paying attention. Will took the bottle from the clumsy man and prepared to scold him, but his eyes landed on a busty peroxide blonde woman dressed in a black cowboy hat, red, glittering bra and some black chaps. Collin quickly took his drink and began to chug it with more vigor than before, slopping some of the clear brown liquid onto his shirtfront.

"Which one of you is Collin Perry?" the woman asked huskily.

Collin quickly raised his free hand, not taking his mouth from the glass.

The blonde smiled seductively at him. "Hey there, big boy. My name's Sheriff Sundae, and I'm here to take care of a disturbance. Why don't you have a seat over there." She pointed at the chair that Collin had just vacated.

With Collin's drink gone (half of it was on his shirt), he smiled at her. "I love sundaes!"

She smiled back. "I bet you do. Now have a seat."

Collin went to sit as he was told. Rich moved from the doorway and moved to where Will was standing. He took the brandy bottle from Will and poured himself a glass. "Bet you're glad you came now, aren't you?"

Will shrugged. "Was it really necessary to hire a cowgirl stripper?"

"We're in Texas, Will!" As if that explained everything.

"Rich!" Collin stage whispered. "This woman has _great_ tits!"

The woman – Sheriff Sundae – smirked. "Now Collin, like I said before, I'm here to take care of the disturbance your friend called me about."

"I'm of legal age to drink, ma'am!" Collin yelled.

The stripper winced a bit at Collin's voice, obviously not expecting him to be so loud. "That's not the disturbance I was referring to." Then she whispered something in Collin's ear that made him gasp.

"Mrs. Lady Goddess Catherine De Bourgh would _not _approve!"

"Is she your fiancé?" she asked, still close to his ear.

He shook his head. "She's my patroness!"

"Patroness?" The stripper asked. It was probably too far out of her vocabulary.

"His boss," Will supplied.

"Just ignore him when he mentions her," Rich suggested. "He's a little bit obsessed with her."

The stripper nodded. "You wanna turn on the music?"

Rich nodded and hit the play button on his remote.

The woman smiled at Collin again. "Now, the disturbance I was referring to was you being a dirty boy."

"I'm clean!" He insisted.

"Are you now?" she purred.

"Yes!" Collin pouted.

"_Ah, dirty, dirty…" _The music began.

"Maybe that's your problem," Sheriff Sundae told him. "Don't worry. I'm here to fix that." She moved away from him and started dancing.

"_Too dirty to clean my act up…"_

She took off her cowboy hat – Will couldn't help but notice her dark roots were showing – and flipped her hair. She swayed her hips to the beat of the music and slowly made her way back to Collin. When she was in front of him again, she put one foot on the armrest of his chair, and Will thought he heard Collin whimper. She circled her hips seductively while Collin stared, wide-eyed, at her chest.

When she moved her chest to Collin's face, the man actually let out a delighted squeal. Suddenly, she turned around and bent over, putting her ass-less chaps in Collin's face. She slowly moved up, using her hands to touch her thighs, stomach, and chest through her clothing. Then, she moved to sit on his lap, undulating her hips.

"Oh, Mrs. De Bourgh!" Collin called. "Please forgive me!"

Rich let out a low chuckle. Will shook his head and moved to pour himself some more brandy. With his back turned to search for a clean glass, Will missed the end of the lap dance, which Collin concluded with, "Mrs. De Bourgh must never find out about this!"

When he turned around, the stripper was still smiling. "I'm not done yet, Collin."

"You're not?"

She shook her head. "I still have all my clothes on."

"Oh!" Collin cried.

"Now, you said you liked sundaes, didn't you?"

He nodded eagerly.

"How would you like to be my sundae?" Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a can of whip cream out of where her gun was supposed to be. Then she squirted a generous helping on Collin's forehead and began to lick it off – all while sitting on his lap.

"When I get married, hire her as my stripper, would you?" Rich slurred.

Will looked at his cousin and noticed the glaze in his eyes. Rich was officially wasted.

"My employer would like you very much," Collin concluded to the stripper drunkenly.

**September 3; 12:57AM**  
"Thank you for your services," Will told the stripper politely.

She nodded and gave him a smile. "Call me again anytime."

He nodded stiffly, handed her the envelope Rich had left for her, and then closed the door.

Collin and Rich were lying on the floor drunkenly singing the song the stripper had danced to. Will had a feeling his ears were bleeding.

Collin suddenly sat up. "I'm getting married tomorrow!"

"Did you just now realize this?" Will asked.

"Yes!" He looked around wildly. "Is there anymore alcohol?"

"I don't think you need anymore."

"Richard is sleeping. I need some more alcohol so I can go to sleep too."

Will sighed when he realized that his cousin was sleeping. "Did Rich say you could sleep here?"

"Yes," Collin answered, slurring a bit. "I can't go home because I can't see Charlotte until the wedding." Collin gasped. "Oh no!"

"What?" Will asked, already sure he'd regret it.

"You won't tell Mrs. De Bourgh about this, will you?"

Will frowned. "Why would I tell her?"

"I don't know," Collin groaned. "You won't, right?"

"No."

He breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

Will rolled his eyes. "What about Charlotte?"

Collin took a moment to think it over. "I suppose you can tell Charlotte about tonight, but _only _if she promises not to tell Mrs. De Bourgh!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Very special thanks to my amazing (although slightly lazy and _late_) beta, who pushed me into writing the bachelor party scene and also helped me come up with Sheriff Sundae. :]

The song the stripper dances to is Dirrty by Christina Aguilera, if you're wildly curious.

As always, thanks a million for all of your lovely reviews. They mean so much to me, you don't even know.

This was a much lighter chapter than I usually write, but I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you liked reading it. Please let me know what you think of this chapter.


	14. You're Not Supposed To Be That Way

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Fourteen: You're Not Supposed To Be That Way  
**

**---**

**September 3; 9:22AM**  
As Will was leaving his room, he spotted Elizabeth stepping out of the elevator wearing green jogging pants and a black sports bra. Her hair was in a very messy ponytail, and she looked like she'd just run a marathon. An iPod was strapped to her upper arm and she was bobbing her head to the beat of her music, unaware that she wasn't alone.

When her eyes met his, she stopped and gave him a quick, small smile. "Morning." She took the headphones out of her ears.

"Good morning." His eyes drifted to her bare, flat midriff. He couldn't help comparing it to the stripper's midriff last night. The stripper came up short. "How are you?"

"Fine. My run lasted a bit longer than I thought it would."

"Oh?" He watched her wrap her headphones around the iPod.

"I got lost," she confessed sheepishly.

"How long were you lost for?"

"I don't know. I ran for about an hour, then noticed I was lost." She shrugged.

He almost told her that perhaps she should be more careful, but he didn't want to be accused of nagging again. "Do you run everyday?"

She nodded. "It's fun." He must have made a face because she let out a laugh. "Okay, not fun, exactly, but it's necessary." She looked around, and then asked. "Hey, how was the bachelor party?"

"Disturbing."

She laughed again, and he couldn't help but smile at her. "Which part?"

"All of it."

"Come on," she teased. "You weren't a little turned on by the stripper? Rich told me he got a cowgirl stripper."

He debated telling her that seeing her in this outfit, even sweaty, slightly red-faced and sans make-up, was more appealing to him than the stripper last night. "I can't say she was my type."

"Rich seemed to think you'd enjoy her if you had enough alcohol."

"Well, clearly I didn't have enough." He sighed. "It was a horrible party."

She rolled her eyes. "Go easy on him. He only threw the bachelor party for you and Collin. He thinks you guys don't have enough fun."

"I'm sure that's what he led you to believe." Will rolled his own eyes. "Rich had more fun than both of us at the party, I assure you."

"So you admit you had a little fun?" she asked.

He shrugged. "There was good brandy."

She scrunched her nose. "Brandy? You're supposed to drink beer and whiskey at bachelor parties. Maybe tequila."

"I hate whiskey."

"Really? I think it's alright."

_Another thing you have in common with my cousin_, he thought sullenly. "I'm going to go check on Rich and Collin. I think they're supposed to be at Rosings soon."

"Can I come?"

"You want to come and see two hung over men?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure," she grinned. "It'll be fun."

"If you'd like."

She began walking with him toward the door, but then stopped abruptly. "I don't smell or anything, do I?"

"No." Part him wished she did. It'd probably easier to fight this attraction he felt.

"Okay," she replied, but she still looked down at herself skeptically.

He opened the door with Rich's keycard.

"Did he leave you with his keycard?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, I stole it," he admitted, holding the door open for her.

"Good call." Elizabeth stepped into the room and immediately covered her nose. "Oh, _gross_. You didn't tell me Rich was the kind that gets _sick _when he drinks."

Will held his breath to avoid the smell of vomit that permeated the room. "He's not."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, Collin. That makes much more sense."

A groan on the couch caught their attention. It was Rich. "What time is it?" he asked in a very hoarse voice.

"Nearly ten," Will responded.

"Too damn early," Rich said, voice muffled by the arm he was using to cover his face. "And what the bloody hell is that _smell_?"

"Collin _probably_ threw up," Elizabeth replied sarcastically. "Just a guess."

Rich moved the arm from his face and stared at Lizzie, taking in her appearance. "You look like the stripper."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. She marched up to him and hit him over the head.

"Bloody hell, woman. I'm hung over. I didn't mean it," Rich groaned. "It's not even such a bad thing. If the stripper had looked like you, Will might have enjoyed himself more."

Her back was to him, so Will couldn't see her face, but he heard her snort. "Get up, you lazy bum. I've been up for almost two hours, and I'm not even a part of the wedding."

"Well, you are insane." Rich sat up slowly. "For the love of all that is British, can someone please get rid of that smell? It's making_ me_ sick."

"You take care of it." Elizabeth poked him in the chest.

"I'm hung over, woman!" Rich exclaimed. Then he grabbed his head. "Ow."

"How much did you drink?" Will asked.

His cousin shrugged. "I wasn't keeping track."

Will rolled his eyes. "Of course you weren't."

Elizabeth moved to the refrigerator. He thought she was going to check to see how much alcohol was there, but she simply pulled out a bottle of water and gave it to Rich. "Do you need Advil or anything?"

Rich drank half of the bottle before answering, "Yeah, do you have any?"

She nodded. "In my room. I'll be back."

When she was gone, Rich laid back down and began chuckling. "I bet you're enjoying this."

"What? You being hung over?" Will asked, getting a bottle of water for himself. "I've seen it before, you know. It stopped being amusing years ago."

"No, I mean, me being hung over and not being able to steal her attention away from you."

Will groaned. "You seem to be stealing her attention away just fine."

Rich chuckled again after taking a sip of his water. "Only because you're not talking."

"I'm not good at small talk."

"Aren't you guys a little past the need for small talk?" Rich threw his empty water bottle on the ground.

"You'd think so," Will muttered.

Before his cousin could respond, the sound of retching came from the bathroom.

Rich winced. "Maybe having the bachelor party the day before the wedding wasn't such a good idea."

"Maybe having the bachelor party _at all_ wasn't such a good idea." Will searched the cabinets for air freshener. He found some and sprayed it all over the room.

"Hmm," Rich mumbled, eyes closed. "It feels like it's misting on me."

Will stared at his cousin. "Are you still drunk?"

"Maybe." Rich smiled.

"You can't be. You stopped drinking relatively early. It takes-"

"If you say so, doctor."

"Oh, great," Elizabeth's voice said as she entered the room. She'd put a white tank top over the sports bra she'd been wearing. "Now it smells like someone threw up in a field of flowers."

Rich laughed. "Blame it on Will."

She thrust a bottle of Advil into Rich's hands. "Did you check on Collin yet?"

"No," Will replied.

She looked exasperated. "You're no good at taking care of drunk people."

"Hung over," Rich corrected.

"Even worse." Elizabeth walked to the bathroom and opened the door.

"How is he?" Rich called after he popped a few pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them.

Will handed his cousin his half empty water bottle, and Rich smiled gratefully at him.

"Well, he threw up in the plant right next to the bathroom." Her voice sounded congested. He guessed she was holding her breath. "And in the bathtub."

"The bathtub?" Will asked in disbelief.

"And he's laying in it."

Rich groaned. "I'll have to have him showered and changed before we go to Rosings. Aunt Cath is going to kill me."

"You deserve it," Will muttered.

Suddenly, they heard water running then a high-pitched squeal from the bathroom. "Miss Eliza! This is highly inappropriate! You had your chance with me!"

Rich guffawed, but Will was confused. What did Collin mean that Elizabeth had her chance with him?

"Shut up, Collin. I'm trying to clean you up. Take off that shirt. It's filthy."

"I can clean myself up!" he cried indignantly.

Will left Rich on the couch and peered into the bathroom. He laughed when he found Elizabeth sitting on a closed toilet seat holding the detachable showerhead and spraying it at Collin.

"Really? Because you couldn't find the bathroom or the toilet by yourself." She continued to spray water on Collin's clothed chest.

"Wait until I report this to Mrs. De Bourgh!" Collin cried, standing up to his full height and stomping his foot like a child.

"Will that be before or after you tell her about how you vomited in a bathtub and then fell asleep in said vomit?" Elizabeth drawled, looking bored.

Collin sputtered. "That is not the point!"

"What is the point?"

"I can shower myself!" He stomped his foot again.

"Are you sure?" She finally shut off the water. "I wouldn't want you to fall asleep again and drown in your own filth. That would be_ tragic_."

Will smirked, but felt he should play peacemaker. Besides, the smell was getting to him. "Perhaps we should just leave?"

Elizabeth put the showerhead back and sighed. "Throw your clothes away when you're done with them."

"Mrs. De Bourgh bought this for me!" Collin exclaimed in horror.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Is that the _only_ thing Mrs. De Bourgh _ever _gave you?"

"Of course not! Mrs. De Bourgh is very generous! She once presented me with a Versace suit that cost well over-"

"Save it, Collin," Elizabeth muttered, moving to the door. "Rich will probably let you borrow some clothes to leave in."

"What time do you have to be at Rosings?" Will asked him.

"I'm supposed to be there to have lunch with Mrs. De Bourgh and my family at noon," Collin answered. Will watched with thinly veiled disgust as the man used his dirty hand to wipe his face, effectively getting old vomit on the face Elizabeth had just cleaned.

He heard a gagging noise from her and grimaced. "I'll let Rich know," he told Collin before gently taking Elizabeth's arm and leading her out the bathroom.

Rich was dressed and waiting for them on the couch.

Elizabeth stared at him in shock, and then looked at Will. "How long were we in there?"

"Not that long," Will answered honestly. "It probably felt that way because it was with Collin."

She looked confused for a minute, but then she laughed. "Time does pass uncommonly slow with him."

"It doesn't take long to change clothes, you know," Rich added.

"You seem to have recovered rather quickly," Will commented.

"Advil kicked in," he shrugged.

"Advil takes at least-"

"Save the medical talk, Darcy," Rich interrupted, rubbing his temples. "We can call it a placebo effect."

Elizabeth walked to the door and opened it. "Collin still needs a change of clothes, by the way."

Rich nodded. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah. I need to shower, and then Charlotte's coming over to get ready here."

"Sounds boring," Rich said.

"It's better than having lunch with your aunt." She smiled. "I'll see you guys at the wedding, then."

Will tried to think of something to say to her, anything, but his mind drew a blank, so he just watched helplessly as she turned and shut the door behind her.

**September 3; 11:08AM**  
A long shower was just what Lizzie needed to clear her head.

Will Darcy was confusing her, and she didn't like it. He was acting strange…nice, even. They'd had a nice conversation yesterday and shared a laugh this morning over Collin. It was almost a different Will. He still gave her his disproving looks and nagged her, so she knew it was the same Will Darcy from New York. She just couldn't figure out why there were slight modifications. She knew he looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking, especially this morning. Sure, she looked messy this morning, but she'd just been _running_. He couldn't expect everyone to always look immaculate like him.

She was just pulling her shorts and plain green tank top out of her suitcase when her phone beeped. It was a text from Charlotte saying she'd be there soon.

Lizzie quickly got dressed and dried her hair with a fluffy towel. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet, so she called room service to order food. Just as she hung up the phone, there was a knock at the door.

She felt a sense of déjà vu when she opened the door and there was Will Darcy standing stiffly on the other side.

"Hello, Elizabeth," he greeted stiffly, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Hi," she replied, waiting for him to explain why he was at her door.

Instead of an explanation, he walked past her into the room and began pacing.

"Um, come in," she muttered sarcastically.

If he heard her, he gave no indication. "You showered."

"Yeah." Lizzie wondered where this was going, but then she noticed he was looking at her legs, her right leg specifically. It dawned on her that she'd forgotten to put on leg warmers or shoes or socks – anything to cover up the scar. She self-consciously moved her right leg behind her left.

She watched him open his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it.

"Did Rich leave yet?" she asked, the awkward silence grating her nerves.

"Yes," he replied, looking grateful. "So, are you enjoying Texas?"

"Yes."

"Are you really?" He seemed incredulous.

Lizzie shrugged. "What's not to enjoy?"

"I couldn't imagine living here." He sat down on the nearest seat, but his posture was so stiff, she wondered if he was even comfortable.

"Yeah, it's quite unfortunate Charlotte decided to fall for the guy that lives hundreds of miles away from home."

"Or fall for a guy like Collin at all." He gave her an awkward smile. "But, Texas isn't all that far from New York."

Lizzie frowned. "You don't think so?"

"Not really." He seemed a bit more relaxed. She noticed he was usually more comfortable when he was disagreeing with her.

"Well, it's far to me. I'm used to Charlotte being only a few blocks away."

"You're hoping to go to some ballet companies abroad though, aren't you?" he asked. "That's farther than Texas."

"I haven't really thought that far ahead," she admitted, confused as to how he even knew about what ballet companies she was auditioning for. She was sure that she had only told Rich.

His eyes darted to her leg again before searching the room with an unreadable expression. "Your hotel room is nice."

Lizzie looked around. "It's just like yours, isn't it?"

She watched as a fascinating blush took over his face. "Yes. You're right, of course." He met her eyes for a brief second then looked away quickly. "My family owns hotels."

"Oh?" She had no idea why he was telling her this, or why he was even here, for that matter.

He nodded. "In the UK. We're expanding though." His eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the ground, back stiffening again. "Well, not we, really. I'm not a part of the business. My sister, Georgiana." He paused again. "She goes by Ana. She's a much better business person than I am."

"I see. That's…neat."

"Yes." He was staring at her legs again. When he finally met her eyes, he looked uncertain. "Elizabeth," he said slowly. "Your leg doesn't-"

"Lizzie?"

Lizzie turned to the open door to see Charlotte. "Char!" Lizzie had never been so happy for an interruption in her life.

"Hello, Will," Charlotte greeted politely.

Will faintly resembled a deer caught in the headlights, but he recovered quickly. "Hello, Charlotte." When he turned to Lizzie again, she was afraid he'd continue the awkward conversation. "I must be going now, Elizabeth. It was very nice speaking with you. I will see you both at the wedding."

As soon as Will left, shutting the door behind him, Charlotte gave Lizzie a curious look. "What was that?"

Lizzie walked to her suitcase to pull out a pair of leg warmers. "You know about as much as I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have no idea why he came in here. He kind of just came in and started jumping from topic to topic. It was very awkward. Thanks for saving me."

Charlotte smiled slyly. "He likes you."

Lizzie rolled her eyes as she adjusted the leg warmers. "No, he doesn't. He gives me the most disdainful looks, Char."

"You're misreading him," her friend insisted. "He couldn't keep his eyes off of you at Rosings."

"Probably searching for more of my flaws." She sighed. "As if my leg wasn't enough."

"I don't think that's what he was doing." Charlotte eyed her covered leg. "You don't even really notice it until you point it out."

"Well, _he _noticed it. He kept looking at it."

"You're overreacting."

Lizzie wanted to drop the subject. "And _you're_ getting married. So let's get you ready."

**September 3; 7:32PM**  
Charlotte Aileen Lucas walked down the aisle in a gorgeous ivory wedding gown as the beautiful Texas sun set behind her. Collin Richard Perry waited patiently at the pure white alter set up between two grand pecan trees.

Mr. Lucas kissed Charlotte's cheek when they reached the alter and stepped aside, allowing Collin to take her hand. From her seat, Lizzie could see both Collin and Charlotte were shaking slightly.

"Friends, family, thank you all for being here to witness this blessed event, the joining of two people…"

She glanced at Rich, who winked at her when he saw her. Then his face lit up even more at something to Lizzie's left. She turned to see Will, a few seats down, glaring at his cousin. He was sitting just as stiffly as he had been earlier in her hotel room. After a few seconds of glaring, Will looked away from Rich and stared determinedly at the ceremony. When Lizzie looked back at Rich, his lips were pressed together tightly and his shoulders were shaking slightly, as if he were trying not to laugh. Before Lizzie could analyze it more, Charlotte started speaking.

"Collin," Charlotte began in an endearingly shaky voice. "You have filled my world with meaning. You have made me so happy and more fulfilled as a person. Thank you for loving me and letting me into your life. I promise to love you, respect you, and be faithful to you forever. Today, I commit myself to you for the rest of my life. Take this ring as a symbol of my never ending love."

Lizzie smiled as her friend slipped the gold band onto Collin's finger.

Collin cleared his throat and looked at the woman in the front seat. Lizzie almost laughed when she realized the woman was Mrs. De Bourgh. "Charlotte." Collin tore his eyes away from Mrs. De Bourgh when he said her name. "Love has given us wings, and our flight begins today." He paused and glanced at his employer once more. "Today, I join my life to yours." He stopped, a panicked look overtook his face and he began to look around. His eyes landed on Mrs. De Bourgh again. The panic faded, and Collin continued haltingly."I join my life to yours, not only as your husband, but as your friend, your lover, and your confidant. Wherever the wind may carry me, I will stay by your side as the companion of your life." Lizzie looked at the older woman curiously and noticed she was mouthing the words to Collin, who appeared to have forgotten his vows. It was probably not a good way to begin a marriage. "Take this ring as a symbol of my never ending love."

Collin's fingers were shaking so much, and he was still looking at Mrs. De Bourgh, so he completely missed when he tried to put the ring on Charlotte's finger. Rich quickly picked it up and handed it to Collin, who gratefully nodded and tried again.

"Charlotte Aileen Lucas, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Charlotte smiled at Collin, not the least bit upset that he'd dropped the ring. "I do."

"Collin Richard Perry, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Collin gave Mrs. De Bourgh one final glance before looking at Charlotte and nodding. "I do."

"Then by the powers vested in me by the state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

**September 3; 10:12PM**  
Lizzie sat in her seat, sipping champagne and watching Charlotte laugh at something Collin said as they shared another dance. Her friend was happy. Despite her faults, Charlotte deserved happiness. Everyone did.

Will sat down next to her silently. She turned to smile at him. He didn't return it. Instead, he just stared at her with his smoldering eyes until she looked away, feeling a blush creep on her cheeks.

"You look quite lovely this evening, Elizabeth," he said softly.

She fought to hide her surprise by looking down at her floor-length, violet satin halter dress. It had a deep v-neck front and open back. Jane had chosen it for her to wear, and she wasn't crazy about it. "Thank you." She turned to him again, but he wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Would you like more champagne?" Will asked.

She hadn't even realized her flute was empty. "Um, sure."

He nodded and stood up. She watched him walk away, wondering why he was acting so strangely.

He came back with two flutes of champagne and handed one to her.

"Thank you." She felt like she said that to him a lot.

"No problem." He sat down in the same seat next to her. There were a few minutes of awkward silence between then as they watched the couples dancing and sipped their champagne. "Muggsy Bogues."

Again, Lizzie was surprised. "The basketball player?"

He nodded, smiling a little. "The short one."

"You looked him up?" She had looked him up as well, but had never expected him to. She honestly hadn't even thought that he'd remember their conversation from the day before.

"Yeah."

Lizzie grinned. "He was 5'3."

"You were right," Will told her.

"I was."

"I looked up Margot Fonteyn, as well."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I was curious about her."

Lizzie took another sip of her champagne. "And?"

"She's interesting." He paused, and she thought he was going to elaborate. "Would you like to dance?"

Not wishing to be rude and ruin their almost-friendly conversation, she agreed. She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor as the band began to play a slow ballad she didn't recognize.

His hand on her bare back unwillingly gave her a slight shiver. He looked at her, concerned. "Are you cold?"

It was a ridiculous question, since it was about eighty degrees outside and she could feel perspiration on her forehead from being out so long. "I'm fine," she mumbled, putting her arms on his shoulders.

They began swaying to the music, and she had to glance at her feet a few times to make sure they were in the right position. This was the first time she'd danced with anyone other than Mallory in at least nine months, she realized

He moved his hand that was on her waist off to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She began to wonder if she should have done more with it, rather than just drying it and putting mousse in it. "I was running late," she blurted without thinking.

"I'm sorry?"

"My hair's a mess because I was running late," she explained, feeling her face grow hot.

"Oh." He stared at her hair with a puzzled expression on his face. "It looks fine to me."

"When are you going back to New York?" she asked, wanting to get away from the weird topic of her hair.

"Tomorrow," he answered. "You?"

"Same."

"Are you looking forward to going back?"

Lizzie nodded. "It's too hot here."

He chuckled. "It's fortunate that the weather cooled down a bit for the wedding, especially for men who have to wear tuxes."

She stared at his expensive-looking tux. The texture of the fabric was soft under her hands. His slate gray tie was almost the exact color of his eyes right now.

"My sister picked out this one," Will commented.

"Your tux?"

Will nodded.

"My sister picked out my outfit as well."

He smiled. "Your sister did a good job."

"So did yours," Lizzie muttered, not wanting to admit how handsome he looked right now. She blamed it on the beautiful low lighting, the tux he was wearing, and the two flutes of champagne she'd had.

They swayed to the rhythm of the song, not speaking for a while.

"Elizabeth." He spoke her name in a soft, husky voice when the song ended. He wasn't smiling at her anymore. She tried to read the look in his eyes, but couldn't. "I have to tell you something."

"What?" she asked, unable to take her eyes away from his.

Will opened his mouth, but something over her left shoulder caught his eye and he stopped. "My cousin's coming this way." Will let out a frustrated sigh. "I'll tell you later."

Lizzie turned her head to see that Rich was, in fact, coming towards them, three flutes of champagne in his hands.

"I'll be back," Will muttered to her, taking his hand off of her back and walking away without acknowledging Rich.

"What's up with Will?" Rich asked, offering her a flute champagne.

Lizzie shook her head. "I really shouldn't. I've already had two."

"You're no fun." Rich pouted. "You can't even really get drunk off of champagne."

"Says you." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine." Rich put the flutes on the nearest table. "Want to dance?"

"Sure." Lizzie shrugged.

She put her hands on Rich's shoulders as she had done with Will, noticing that his suit was just as soft as Will's.

"So you didn't answer me before." Rich put both his hands on her waist. "What's up with Will?"

"I don't know," Lizzie replied honestly. "He's been acting weird."

"Weird how?"

"Well, he's being nice to me."

Rich laughed. "Is he usually not nice to you?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Usually he just glares at me."

"I think you're misreading him."

"I doubt it."

"Will's not good at expressing his feelings," Rich insisted. "But he's a good man." When Lizzie didn't reply, Rich continued. "He'd do anything for the ones he loves."

"Most people would though."

"What?"

"Do anything for the ones they love."

"Maybe, but probably not the way Will would." Rich sighed.

"I'll take your word for it," Lizzie said.

Rich smiled. "I wish you'd find out for yourself."

"Well, he'd have to love me, and I don' t see that happening anytime soon."

Rich's smile widened, but he changed the subject. "So what are you going to be doing when you leave Texas?"

"Back to practicing, I guess. Mallory wants to start auditions by Christmas."

Rich nodded. "I should go back to work too. I've been away for a while."

"You've only been here for a few days though, right?"

"Yes but, I took a really long vacation before this."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. First, I stayed in California for about a month with Charlie, then I went to visit my cousin, Ana-"

"You know Charlie?" Lizzie interrupted.

"Sure I do. I met him at the same time as Will did."

"Why did Charlie go to California so early?" Lizzie asked quickly.

"Will told him to." Rich shrugged. "He thought it was best."

His words made Lizzie miss a step and Rich step on her foot. "Sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine." Lizzie assured him, continuing the dance as if nothing had happened, eager to continue their conversation. "Will told Charlie to leave?"

Rich nodded. "Charlie trusts Will's opinion above everything else. A lot of people do, actually."

"Why did Will tell him to leave though?"

"Well, Charlie was in a bad relationship. Will didn't really give me the specifics, and I don't like to ask Charlie because it makes him depressed. From what I gathered, Charlie was in love with the girl and she didn't love him back. Will determined she wasn't good enough for Charlie."

"Will decided this?" Lizzie was in disbelief.

"Yeah. Will's always looking out for Charlie. This happens to him a lot. I mean, the guy wears his heart on his sleeve and basically asks to be hurt and used. Will's always saving him. He's good like that."

Lizzie spotted Will sitting at an empty table, watching them. She quickly looked away when their eyes met. "So he separated them?"

Rich nodded. "Charlie didn't want to, at first. He fancied himself in love with the girl. He was sure that she loved him too, but when he told her, she didn't say it back. That's pretty clear, isn't it?"

_No_, Lizzie wanted to scream. Instead she just nodded, biting her lip.

"Charlie wasn't so great at first. It was always Jane this and Jane that, but Will thinks-" Rich stopped abruptly and looked at Lizzie as if he'd never seen her before. "Jane…"

"Bennet," Lizzie spat, absolutely furious.

"Your sister," Rich concluded softly, looking sheepish. "Shit, Lizzie, I didn't mean to-"

"Save it, Rich." Lizzie felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach, and by someone, she meant William Darcy. "I need to get out of here."

"No, please, let me explain," Rich grabbed her arm when she tried to leave. "I forgot that Charlie's ex was your sister. I shouldn't have-"

Lizzie shook him off. "I'm not mad at you, Rich. I appreciate you shedding light on this."

Quickly, she all but ran to Charlotte and gave her friend a hug. "Congratulations, Char."

"Thank you, Lizzie."

Lizzie tried to smile back, but couldn't get her lips to listen to her brain.

"Lizzie, what's the matter?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I just need to get out of here. I'm not feeling so good."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Lizzie shook her head. "I just wanted to say goodbye and congratulations."

"Oh, Lizzie, don't leave. The party's just started. I haven't even thrown the bouquet!"

"I'm sorry, Char. I really am. I just really have to get out of here. I'll tell you about it some other time."

"Will you visit me?" Charlotte asked. "After the honeymoon?"

She nodded. Anything to get Charlotte to loosen her grip on her. "Yes, I promise."

"Alright. Take care of yourself, Lizzie. Have a safe flight back tomorrow."

Lizzie hugged her friend one last time before fleeing.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm so sorry I let two weeks go by without an update. I'm taking two summer classes right now that are very heavy in writing (I've only been in school for a week and a half, and I've already written two 5-page papers and have another one due tomorrow) so it takes a lot of time and energy that I'd normally use for this story. Please don't worry about the story though. I still enjoy writing and appreciate everyone that reads and reviews, so I do plan on finishing this story.

Thanks to my beta, as always. Without her, you wouldn't have had the wedding scene lol.

Please review and wish me luck on this five page paper I haven't started on yet.


	15. I Was Always Set To Self Destruct

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Fifteen: I Was Always Set To Self-Destruct  
**

**---**

**September 3; 11:59PM**  
"Elizabeth," a very familiar British voice said from behind her.

Lizzie involuntarily jumped from her position on the couch, where she'd been for the last half hour. She quickly stood up and turned around to see Will staring at her from the doorway. Like her, he was still wearing the clothes he'd worn to the wedding.

"Don't you ever knock?" Lizzie glared. "What do you want?"

He seemed taken aback by her tone and glare, but answered, "The door was open. I came to see if you were okay. Rich looked like he had upset you. He was going to tell me, but my aunt called him before he could." Will closed the door behind him as he let himself into the room and sat down on the loveseat across from her. Then stood up. Then sat down again. "Are you alright?"

"What's your deal?" Lizzie asked, annoyed. He didn't even_ know_ what he'd done. She took a few steps away from him, until the back of her legs touched the couch that she'd been occupied seconds earlier.

"What do you mean?" He stood up.

At that moment, Lizzie realized that she found everything about Will Darcy infuriating. She hated everything about the man in front of her, from his dark hair and imploring gray eyes to his expensive, soft tuxedo. She hated everything he'd said to her. She hated him for what he did to Jane, to Charlie, to George. She hated him for making her think he could be a decent guy. She hated that he must have followed her here from the reception but didn't even know that he was the reason she'd fled. She hated his awkwardness. She hated that he couldn't decide whether to sit or stand, even though he hadn't even been invited in, god damn it! She couldn't stand him. She _hate_d him. She had no idea how anyone could _not_ hate him. "I have no idea how you have any friends," she muttered decidedly.

Will looked at her strangely. He swallowed audibly, and then said, "I don't want to be your friend."

It was her turn to be surprised, not surprised that he didn't want to be her friend (she didn't want to be his either, thank you very much) but because he'd said it. Then she scolded herself because he _would_ say something rude like that. She really _shouldn't_ be surprised. His very first words about her were rude, after all. Lizzie moved around the couch to an emptier part of the room. "Then why are you here?" she demanded, turning away.

"No, you misunderstand me," he said, following her and grabbing her arm to make her face him. His eyes were as unreadable as always.

She yanked her arm away forcefully. "_Don't_ touch me!"

"Please. I came here to say something."

Not sure what else to do, she waited.

Will took a deep breath while staring at his feet. He seemed to hold it in for few moments before exhaling audibly. He did this a few times while still staring stubbornly at the ground.

Lizzie began to lose what little patience she had left. "_Well_?"

"Give me a moment," he said softly, finally meeting her eyes. Lizzie was surprised to see they had a desperate look in them.

He took one last deep breath and began. "I don't want to be your friend because, because I need more than that." Lizzie felt her jaw drop. She was completely speechless, so he continued. "I've tried not to, believe me, I have. But. But I can't. I have to tell you how ardently I admire you and love you and-"

"_What_?" she demanded, horrified. "You_ love_ me?"

This, for whatever reason, he seemed to consider as sufficient encouragement. He rubbed his eyes quickly, nodded, and continued. "I've tried to talk myself out of feeling this way about you. I thought it'd be easy. Your family is unbearable and, frankly, a liability to my reputation. Your career and future are shaky at best. You yourself are impatient, immature, and ridiculously stubborn at times. However, despite all that, my feelings will not be repressed. I can't stand it any more."

She quickly backed away from him, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. He looked confused, and Lizzie, unable to contain her anger any longer, lashed out.

"I'm very sorry that the feelings you have for me have caused you pain and discomfort," she said sarcastically. "It wasn't my intention, believe me."

Will took a step towards her, his eyes fixed upon her face. She took a step back. "That's all you have to say in reply?" He spat out in disbelief.

"Yes," she answered, chin raised defiantly.

There was a fierce storm brewing in his gray eyes, and Lizzie refused to be the one to look away first. "You're _rejecting _me?" She nodded. "May I ask _why_?"

"You really need to ask why? God, you _are_ an arrogant son of a bitch!" she burst out angrily. "You come in here, uninvited, and you proceed to tell me how you like me _against your own will_, how you don't _want_ to like me, how my family will ruin your fucking _reputation_! You point out all my character flaws and even take a stab at my greatest passion! 'Shaky at best'? Where the _fuck_ do you get off?" She paused only to take a breath. "You. Are. An asshole!" she stated every word carefully, as if he wouldn't understand her any other way.

"I didn't mean for it to-"

She cut him off. "And even if you hadn't done any of that, I still wouldn't want you! Do you really think anything would persuade me to accept a man who meddles in business he knows nothing about? A man, who by meddling, effectively ruined the happiness of my sister?"

His eyebrows knit together as if confused**.** "Jane?"

"Yes, Jane, you ass! You convinced Charlie to dump her! You didn't even let Charlie do it himself! Jane had to get an email from his damn sister and see it in a celebrity gossip magazine!"

Will opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it, only to close it again.

"Don't even bother denying it," Lizzie said coldly. "Your face is evidence enough."

"I wasn't going to deny it. I did break Jane and Charlie up, but it was for his own good. I was kinder to him than to myself," he replied calmly. He broke eye contact with her and stared at the ground for a moment, looking upset.

"What the hell does that mean?"

He ignored her question, but met her eyes again. "I watched Jane carefully. She never seemed to like Charlie as much as he liked her."

"Oh, because you are such an excellent judge of character. You didn't know her well enough to get Charlie to dump her, you manipulative bastard!" she shouted.

"I was trying to save Charlie from being used, from being taken advantage of, from getting hurt," Will explained evenly, taking a few steps closer to her. By now, Lizzie had her back against the wall.

"Who the _fuck _are you?" she shouted again, unable to contain her rage. "Who the hell do you think you are, meddling in other people's lives? You had no right! No fucking right! Jane _loved _Charlie!"

"She never told him that! He said it to her, and she didn't say it back!" His face was now just two feet from hers.

"Jane is _shy_! She doesn't just go parading her feelings for all to see! She loved Charlie, but she was reticent and didn't want to dishonor him by saying it before she was quite ready!"

Will moved even closer to her, too close. "So you admit that your sister didn't love Charlie as much as he loved her?" he asked softly.

"It's not a fucking competition!" Lizzie screamed, shoving his chest furiously with both hands. "Is that what you think love is? You think it matters who loves who more? What matters is that they love _each other_!"

"She never told him," he repeated, stumbling backwards a little from the force and surprise of her push. "Charlie was persuaded she didn't care about him."

"Because _you_ suggested it!" Lizzie took the opportunity to move into open space, away from the wall.

"I was protecting my friend._ You_ would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes." Will did not try to move closer to her again.

"Don't you _dare_ suggest I am anything like you!"

"We both care very much about our friends and family, that is all I am suggesting. You know I'm right," he retorted smugly.

"_I _care about my friends and family," she corrected, resisting the urge to punch that self-satisfied look off of his face. "You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself!" He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she wasn't finished. "What about George?"

He frowned, all smugness evaporating. "George_ who_?"

"George _Wickham_!" she cried.

"The _janitor _at the hospital?" he asked, frown deepening. "You take an awful lot of interest in that man."

"He's only a janitor because of you!" Lizzie replied. "He told me about his misfortunes.

Will rolled his eyes and clenched his fists. "Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed."

"You're not denying it! You were an absolute bastard to him, and yet at the mention of what you did to him, you simply roll your eyes with contempt."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and then shook his head. "This is your opinion of me?"

Lizzie ran a hand through her hair and said nothing, only meeting his gaze silently.

"_Thank you_ for explaining so fully. According to you, my faults are heavy indeed! These offenses might have been overlooked, if your wounded pride hadn't stopped you from seeing my honest confession for what it was! An honest confession from a man suffering from feelings he doesn't want. And yes, you heard right, feelings I don't want! Do you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? Do you expect me to be happy that I fancy myself in_ love_ with you, you who are all too willing to believe the absolute _worst_ of me?"

Lizzie felt herself growing angrier at every word he uttered, but she forced herself to wait for him to finish before she started. "Oh, and these are the words of a man who fancies himself 'in love' with me? You think your confession was romantic? Was I supposed to fall at your feet and thank you for having me, despite my_ long_ list of flaws? You're so damn arrogant! Again, I wonder how the hell you have any friends**.** We already know why you don't have a damn girlfriend!"

His astonishment was obvious. He looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and mortification, but she continued. "You can go ahead and list my character flaws, but I'm not the only imperfect one in the room, you know! You're so arrogant, you're conceited, and you don't care about anyone but yourself! I don't want anything to do with you. Not even if you were the last man on earth!"

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. Lizzie swallowed, guilt at her words finally setting in. Damn guilt. She thought about apologizing for being so harsh, but then remembered Jane and George. Her expression hardened.

Will nodded. "You've made yourself quite clear, Elizabeth. I fully understand your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been." He nodded again. "Forgive me, then, for having taken up so much of your time."

With that, he hastily left the room.

Lizzie couldn't feel her legs anymore. She quickly sat down on the nearest chair, her face in her hands. After a moment, she ran her hands through her hair again. She tried to breathe evenly in through her nose and out through her mouth, but it did not help. She could not believe what had just happened. Will Darcy had charged in and declared his unwanted feelings for her. It seemed like a dream. Or a nightmare. Unbelievable.

**September 4; 8:49AM**  
A soft knock woke Lizzie out of her slumber. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she ignored it, pulling the covers over her head and hoping the knocker would go away.

Another knock came, louder and longer than the first one. She debated telling the person she wasn't feeling well, but thought that maybe if she just remained silent, they would believe she was out.

She heard an unfamiliar noise, and then silence.

**September 4; 11:30AM**  
Lizzie looked around the room one last time to make sure she hadn't left anything. On the ground near her door, she spotted a plain white envelope. She picked it up and examined it. It only had her name written in the front in messy scrawl. It wasn't sealed. Curious, she took the letter out and began to read.

_Elizabeth, _

_Don't be alarmed. The purpose of this letter is not to continue professing my love for you and further humiliating myself._

Lizzie stopped and stuffed the letter back into the envelope, not ready to read this, at least not without some coffee in her system first. She shoved the letter in her bag and tried to forget about it for the time being.

**September 4; 11:40AM**  
"Thank you Miss Bennet, I hope you enjoyed your stay here."

Lizzie smiled politely and grabbed her bags.

"Do you want someone to help you with your bags?" the receptionist asked.

Before Lizzie could reply, someone else did.

"I'll help her."

"Rich!" Lizzie smiled at him nervously. "Hi."

"Hey, Lizzie." He smiled back, putting her more at ease. "Leaving now?" He picked up her suitcase and garment bag and led her to the door.

She nodded. "My plane doesn't leave for a while, but I got tired of the hotel room." She looked around suspiciously.

"Will left earlier," Rich said, answering her unspoken question.

Lizzie tried to keep her face impassive, but Rich's knowing smile informed her that she was unsuccessful. "When do you leave?"

"Not until tomorrow."

"Oh." She stopped abruptly before they reached the double doors of the hotel entrance. "Listen, Rich. I'm really sorry about the way I acted yesterday. I shouldn't have gotten-"

"It's fine, Lizzie," Rich interrupted. "I'm the one that should apologize. I feel really awful about everything. I shouldn't have said anything about your sister. I mean, I knew she was your sister because you're both famous, and I should have been more tactful."

"No, Rich." Lizzie shook her head. "I'm glad you told me. It was really enlightening. It's not like Will ever told me anything."

"Will only did it because he cared about Charlie. He didn't want Charlie to get hurt." Rich opened the door for her.

"It wasn't any of his business," Lizzie argued as she walked through.

"Well, is George Wickham really any of _your _business?" Rich countered.

The bitterness in Rich's eyes was unmistakable. "You know about George?"

"Yes. I know all about George Wickham." Rich shook his head. "I don't know what twisted fabrication he told you about Will and Ana to get you on his side, but I can tell you right now it probably wasn't true."

"Ana?" Lizzie asked, confused. "Will's sister?"

They found a shady place to stand and wait for her taxi. Rich studied her carefully, and then asked, "So you haven't read Will's letter, then?"

"You know about the letter?"

Rich let out a sigh. "I know about a lot. I was up with Will all night."

"So, what happened with Will's sister?"

"Just read the letter. I give you my word that Will's telling the truth." Rich's sincere eyes bored into hers, and she couldn't help but believe him. "Don't you think it's funny that you and my cousin just fight about other people?"

Lizzie snorted. "Believe me, I have problems with Will too."

"I know," Rich replied quickly. "And I'm not in the position to tell you whether or not those are valid. I know Will's not perfect, but neither am I, and neither are you."

"I didn't say I was." She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated.

"He cares about you, you know," Rich told her softly.

"I," she paused. "I-I don't know what to do with this. I didn't expect this. What am I supposed to do?"

"Just read the letter," Rich said. "That's a start, isn't it?"

"I guess," Lizzie mumbled. A taxi drove up and the driver got out to confirm that she was Elizabeth Bennet. Lizzie nodded and put her carry on in the trunk while Rich and the driver took care of her suitcase and garment bag.

She smiled gratefully at him. "It was very nice meeting you. I'm really glad you were here."

Rich smiled back, squinting a little in the bright sunlight. "It was great meeting you too. I hope we see each other again soon." He gathered her into his arms for a long hug. When he let go, he asked, "You promise you'll read the letter?"

Lizzie bit her lip and nodded. "I promise."

"He's telling the truth in the letter you know," Rich said. "He has no reason to lie."

Lizzie sighed. "I'll read it."

**September 4; 12:54PM**  
Lizzie had never been able to sleep on planes. This was unfortunate because she was actually very, very tired. Her eyes kept straying to the white envelope peeking out of her bag. Giving a loud, defeated sigh, she picked it up and extracted the letter.

_Elizabeth, _

_Don't be alarmed. The purpose of this letter is not to continue professing my love for you and further humiliating myself. I think I did enough of that last night. I'm writing this letter to address two offenses you've charged me with. It is only fair that I tell my side of the story, after all._

_I do not know what story George Wickham has given you, but I will tell you everything about my acquaintance with him, and I beg you to allow me to tell my side. _

_My family was George Wickham's host family when he came to study in the UK for a year. My mother had died when my sister, Ana, was five years old. Following her death, my father, sister, and I grew very close. When I left to study at Cambridge, my father felt something was missing, so he signed up to be a host family for the exchange student program. My father and sister loved George as if he were part of the family. I cannot say the same because I hardly knew him. I'd only met George a few times when I was home for the holidays, and honestly had no real opinion of him. He seemed to make my father and sister happy, so I was grateful for his presence. After George left, he made no further attempt to contact my family until a few months before he was to graduate high school. He expressed his desire to study at Cambridge. My father pulled some strings to get him accepted on such short notice and also paid for his tuition and other expenses, believing that George was a worthy investment. _

_At Cambridge, George and I rarely spoke. I was busy with my studies and George was busy pursuing women, gambling, or getting high. I knew this, and I confronted him about it a few times, but he refused to listen. I should have told my father, but I didn't want George's careless and reckless behavior to hurt him. I also hoped, perhaps foolishly, that George would clean up his act the next semester. The winter of George's first year at Cambridge and my third, my father lost his long-term battle with lung cancer. In his will, he specified that George's education and living expenses at Cambridge should be paid for until he graduated. George decided that he had no desire to study in the UK without my father, so he demanded the amount owed to him so he could use it to pay for school somewhere else. I allowed the lawyers and accountants to give him the large sum of money, wishing to simply be done with him. He went back to America shortly after he signed the papers. That summer, I received a letter from George, asking for more money because he'd already spent the funds from my father. I refused. _

_My father was a very famous figure in Europe, and his death caused the media to focus more on my sister and I. Upon finishing my education at Cambridge, we decided to move to America. There, as fate would have it, she ran into George Wickham while I was at work. They began talking, and he convinced her to come to his apartment for tea. Once in his apartment, he asked her for some money, and when she refused to give it to him, he became angry and would not allow her to leave. He began questioning her about money and how to get it from me. When she didn't answer him, he began hitting her and suggesting vulgar things he would do to her if she didn't comply. Luckily, Ana managed to lock herself in his bathroom and phone the police. It turned out, George had been high on heroin, and he needed money to get more drugs. Ana wished to drop the entire incident, so we filed for a restraining order, but did not press charges. She was only fifteen at the time. _

_I hope you better understand my reasons for treating George Wickham with nothing but contempt. If you hate me so much that it prevents you from believing any of this, you can ask Rich for confirmation. He loves Ana like his own sister and was an essential part of her healing. I did not disclose any of this information before because I wished to allow my sister her privacy, however, I have no doubt of your secrecy in this very sensitive matter__**.**_

_As for your sister and my friend, I can only say that I misjudged your sister, and for that, I apologize. I've seen Charlie fall in love with many women less worthy of him. He's had his heart broken a number of times, and I've been trying to prevent that for him for years. I believed your sister to be indifferent and unattached. I underestimated her level of affection for Charlie, and I did not believe that Charlie leaving would affect her very much. I'm very sorry for causing her any pain. _

_Good luck with everything you do, Elizabeth. _

_Best,  
William James Darcy_

Lizzie read the letter five times to make sure she digested every single word. During the sixth reading, she burst into tears and ignored the woman that was giving her pitying looks and asking if she was alright. Anger set in, and she began to feel angry at Will for making her feel _tiny_ with his letter. She was angry that he'd been _right_ last night. She _was_ immature and stubborn. The only adjective he had left out was stupid. She'd been so _stupid _to listen to George's story without getting Will's side first.

Lizzie had never felt so alone. She sat on the plane, waiting to land, with nothing to distract her from the wealth of her mistakes, staring back at her in the form of a two-page letter.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Fastest update ever, yes? Haha. Don't get used to it though. I had this chapter written before I posted the other one (it was actually supposed to be part of the last chapter, but it was too long...which is why this one is so short) and just needed it edited. Everyone say thank you to Lyndell for being awesome and editing (at lightning speed!) for me since my usual beta is busy having a life and whatnot.

And you, reader, are awesome as well. Over twenty reviews in just a few days is awesome too. What else is awesome? Over two hundred people signed up for alerts for this story. You guys continue to amaze me.

I'm in a very good mood because I have no homework tonight.

This was a huge chapter (despite the shortness) so if you review ANY chapter, it should be this one. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Pleaseeee. :]


	16. Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Sixteen: Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake**

**  
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**September 7; 10:22PM**  
Ballet was the answer. Ballet was _always_ the answer. It didn't matter what the question was, ballet would always be her answer.

Ballet was an escape from the pain, guilt, anger, and shame that Lizzie felt thanks to Will Darcy and his damn letter.

With her pointe shoes on and the music playing, Lizzie forgot all about what an immature idiot she'd been and what a confusing ass Will Darcy had been. In the studio, with nothing but music to fill the room, Lizzie could put away all of the feelings that weighed her down. Ballet made her feel weightless. Ballet was the answer.

**September 9; 5:10PM**  
Jane had a boyfriend. They'd met while doing Fashion Week in Paris together and had been dating ever since. Noah seemed like a nice enough guy. He brought Jane flowers before every date and always took her to all the nicest restaurants. He had a nice smile and eyes the color of chocolate. They made a very nice couple. Most importantly, Jane seemed happier than Lizzie had seen her in months.

It was for this reason that Lizzie thought it was best not to tell her sister the truth behind Charlie moving to California early. She had considered it a million times in her mind, weighing the pros and cons, but in the end, Lizzie could not bring herself to open up an old wound for her sister, especially when Jane seemed to finally be over Charlie.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lizzie knew it wasn't right to lie about this to her sister. _Although_, Lizzie reasoned with herself, _it's not exactly lying._ Jane hadn't blatantly asked anything about Charlie, so lying was unnecessary. It was quite lucky, actually, that her sister refused to ever speak of Charles Bingley. _You're lying by omission_, a part of her whispered. Lizzie ignored it. As far as Jane knew, Charlotte's wedding had been pleasant, and Charlotte seemed happy. That was all there was to know.

"How do I look?" Jane asked, twirling in her floor-length dark green gown.

"Beautiful, as always," Lizzie answered.

Jane smiled. "Green's always been your color."

"_Every _color is your color, Janie." Lizzie rolled her eyes. "It looks amazing on you. Noah's a lucky guy."

"_I'm _the lucky one," Jane insisted. "Noah's so nice."

That was Jane's favorite adjective for Noah. _Nice._ "Where's he taking you tonight?"

"We're just having dinner, and then going to the opera."

"I didn't know you liked the opera."

"I've never been, actually." Jane fidgeted with the strap of her dress for a moment. "Noah thinks I'll enjoy it." Her sister smiled brilliantly.

Yes, telling Jane about Charlie would ruin this happiness, and Lizzie didn't think she could stand to see her sister in anymore pain. Not saying anything was in everyone's best interest. So why did Lizzie still feel like a horrible person for keeping this from her sister?

**September 10; 9:02AM**  
"What's wrong with you?" Mallory asked, stopping the music abruptly.

"What do you mean?" Lizzie knew the answer already. This morning had not been going well at all. She was more tired than she had been in a long time. Her thoughts were still on her conversation with Jane last night. With effort, she could forget about Will Darcy, but nothing could make her forget Jane. She stayed up almost the whole night thinking about it. At one point in the middle of the night, Lizzie considered waking her sister up to confess everything. All of these doubts resulted in about two hours of sleep for Lizzie.

"You make it look like work."

"I had a bad night," Lizzie mumbled, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Lizzie answered. _That was the problem_, she thought. She had told her sister nothing, and the guilt wouldn't let her sleep.

"How long is this 'nothing' going to go on?" Mallory asked, crossing her arms. "You still want your audition tape filmed next month, don't you?"

Lizzie nodded.

"Well, then you better fix it," Mallory said in a no-nonsense voice. "Get yourself together, Lizzie. I won't allow you to film anything if you have another morning like this one."

**September 10; 3:22PM**  
Lizzie sat at the kitchen table watching her sister pace the room while on the phone with their mother. Finally, Jane said goodbye and hung up the phone.

"Mom wants us to take the twins out tomorrow so she can have time with her friends," Jane announced, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out some carrots.

"Okay," Lizzie replied, biting her lip. "What are you doing?"

Jane pulled a vegetable peeler out from one of their drawers. "I offered to make carrot cake for Mom's get together tomorrow, remember?"

"Right. Do you need help?"

"The recipe should be on the table. Get the rest of the ingredients while I peel these."

Lizzie did as she was told, then peered over at her sister. It might not be a good idea to drop the bomb while Jane was holding a sharp object. Then again, how much damage could a vegetable peeler do? How much damage could _Jane_ do with a vegetable peeler?

"How are things with Noah?" Lizzie asked tentatively.

Her sister smiled. "Good. Great. He's so nice."

Lizzie bit her lip again. "That's good."

Jane nodded, eyes still on the carrots.

"I saw Will Darcy at Charlotte's wedding," Lizzie blurted with no preamble.

The blonde Bennet stopped peeling. "Really?"

"Yes. I met his cousin too."

"I see." Jane wasn't looking at her, but Lizzie knew her sister was uncomfortable with this topic. "What were they doing there?"

"Rich – that's Will's cousin – was Collin's best man," Lizzie answered, studying her sister carefully.

Jane had gone back to peeling the carrots, but this time with much more stiff, deliberate movements. "Oh."

"Sorry I didn't tell you before," Lizzie mumbled.

Her sister shrugged. "Why would you need to tell me that?"

"You don't think I should have told you?"

"That's not what I meant, Lizzie. I meant that it wasn't necessary to tell me. It's not like it would really affect my life in any way." Jane gave her a sly smile. "Did something happen with you and Will? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"God, no," Lizzie shook her head. "Nothing like that." _Liar, liar, pants on fire_, her conscience sing-songed. _Shut up_, Lizzie thought back to it. _Nothing happened. _

"Did Will-" Jane stopped and looked away. Her face looked pained. "Did Will mention Charlie?"

Just saying Charlie's name brought Jane pain. How could Lizzie tell her sister the entire story without ruining all of her progress? At Lizzie's hesitation, Jane added, "Like I said, Lizzie, it won't really affect my life. I'm happy with Noah. I'm quite over Charles Bingley."

Lizzie nodded, and although she tried so hard to open her mouth and say more, her lips remained glued shut.

Jane gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "So, did Will mention him?" Her sister's voice sounded perfectly nonchalant, but one look at her face told Lizzie it was an act.

"No," Lizzie lied softly. "He didn't say anything about Charlie."

**September 18; 9:22AM**  
"I need more height," Lizzie said, shaking her head. She wasn't sure if she could blame the nagging guilt or her still-weak muscles on her lack of height.

"I think that's the highest you'll be able to go, Lizzie," Mallory replied from her position near the mirrors. "It's an improvement from the other day though."

Lizzie shook her head again, refusing to accept that. "That _can't_ be the highest. I don't feel like I'm flying at all." She tried again, but got the same result.

"It looks fine, Lizzie." Mallory was watching the playback on the video camera.

"Just let me work on them some more during the week. This is just preliminary filming, right?"

"Yeah, but we _could _film today if you'd like," Mallory replied. "I'm telling you, you're good enough. You're ready. Did you take care of those problems that were keeping you up at night?"

"To the best of my ability," Lizzie mumbled miserably. Her chat with Jane had done very little to ease her conscience, but it had solidified the fact that she would never be able to tell Jane about Charlie. It was just more guilt that Lizzie would have to learn to live with.

"What does that mean?" Mallory asked, curious.

Lizzie ignored her and tried the grand jeté once again. There was no improvement. "I used to be so much better at these."

"Watch your landing, Lizzie," Mallory said, eyes on her feet. "You're so focused on height, you're forgetting your technique."

She blushed, knowing the older woman was right. "It's so frustrating to know I was able to do this ten times better last year."

"I wouldn't say ten times better." Mallory smiled. "And how many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to be the dancer you _used_ to be?"

"The dancer I _used_ to be is the only kind of dancer _worth_ being."

"Wrong," Mallory disagreed. "You're a stronger dancer now. The fire everyone talked about, the one they all said you had…it burns so much brighter now, Lizzie. It's amazing to watch. The passion in your dancing is undeniable."

"It's not enough," Lizzie muttered, taking position to attempt the jeté one more time, this time being careful to do a clean landing.

**September 20; 2:20PM**  
For the twins' seventeenth birthday, Jane and Lizzie agreed to take them shopping. Lizzie was browsing the racks, half listening to Lydia drone on and on about how the filming of her new TV show was going.

"Liz?"

Lizzie looked up and was met with George Wickham's blue eyes staring back at her. "George."

"How've you been?" he asked, smiling easily.

"Good," she replied, quickly thinking of a way to get her sisters out of the store.

"Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Well, you're the one that has my number," Lizzie muttered.

"I'm Lydia," her sister said, offering her hand to George.

He gave her a very charming smile. "George Wickham."

"Pleased to meet you," Lydia purred.

Lizzie held back a gag. "We're shopping for Lydia's birthday present. She's turning _seventeen_." She gave George a meaningful look. "We've really got to get going now."

"Cat's still trying on that dress," Lydia pointed out, still smiling at George in a way that made Lizzie a little sick.

"Let's go get them." Lizzie tugged on Lydia's arm to get her away from George.

To her surprise, Lydia followed without complaint.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked after she took one look at Lizzie's face.

"George Wickham's here," Lizzie replied.

Jane frowned. "Are you still mad at him for standing you up and not calling you?"

Lizzie had forgotten that by not telling Jane about Charlie, she failed to mention new discoveries about George as well. She tried to think of what to tell her sister.

"I'm going to look at those shirts," Lydia announced.

Jane nodded distractedly, still looking at Lizzie.

Finally, Lizzie said, "I just don't like him anymore."

Before her sister could reply, Cat came out of the dressing room in a very revealing dress. "What do you think?"

"I don't think purple is your color," Jane said tactfully, though color certainly wasn't the only problem.

"They have a pink one," Cat said, looking towards the racks.

"How about we look around and then come back and get this dress if you don't find anything else you like," Jane suggested.

"Fine." She trudged back into the dressing room.

Jane sighed, relieved.

"This was a bad idea," Lizzie said, biting on her nail.

"It's their birthday, Lizzie."

"I know, but they're ridiculous."

"I guess it would have been a better idea for us to cook and Mom to take them shopping."

Lizzie shrugged. "Mom's not even cooking. I think we're going out to dinner later."

"Is Lydia talking to George?" Jane asked, looking behind Lizzie.

Lizzie whirled around to see that Jane was right. "Unbelievable," she muttered as she marched toward the two. "Lydia, we're leaving."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Fine." Then she smiled at George. "Bye, George."

Lizzie dragged her sister out of the store without a word to George. They saw him leave a few seconds later. "Stay away from him," Lizzie hissed.

"Why?" Lydia pouted. "Just because he turned _you_ down doesn't mean he's off limits to _me_."

"Lydia, he's no good for you. He's bad news," Lizzie said, trying to get through to her sister.

"You're just bitter that he stood you up at the party. That was, like, _ages_ ago, Lizzie. Let it go."

Lizzie wanted to scream at the girl before her. Instead, she just ran her hand through her hair several times. "He's not who he makes himself out to be, Lydia."

Lydia let out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, Lizzie. It's not like I'll see him again anyway."

"Everything okay?" Jane asked as she came out of the store, Cathy in tow.

"Fine," Lydia and Lizzie both replied.

**October 1; 10:39AM**  
Lizzie came out of her fouetté flawlessly just as the music ended.

"We got it," Mallory announced happily.

Lizzie allowed herself to move from her end position to go get some water and stretch. "How does it look?"

"Your fouettés are beautiful, Lizzie," Mallory told her, eyes on the video camera play back.

"What about the rest of it?"

"The rest of it is beautiful as well," she assured her. "We're all set now! I'll have my husband edit these and get them in proper DVD format and everything for you."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Do you want to see the video?" Mallory asked her.

"I'll watch it later." Lizzie took a sip of her water. "The choreography was okay?"

"Yes. Did you choreograph it yourself?"

Lizzie nodded.

"It was good, Lizzie. It really highlights all of your strengths." Mallory smiled. "I'm going to go put this on a flash drive so we don't lose it."

As soon as Mallory left, Lizzie collapsed on the floor and breathed a sigh of relief. Jane was happy with Noah. Lydia was not in touch with George. Now her audition DVDs were just about done. Life was looking up.

Her cell phone rang, and Lizzie saw her manager, Mary, was calling her. Lizzie answered the phone with a slight frown. "Hello?"

"Lizzie. How are you? How's the DVD coming?"

"It's going fine. We're about done. What's up?"

"I was calling to tell you about some open auditions in March that I think-"

"No open auditions, Mary," Lizzie interrupted.

"But, Lizzie, if you go to these then you could save yourself the trouble of the audition DVD."

"Open auditions are a mess, Mary. I'll be stuck in a room with hundreds of other dancers as we all compete for one or two spots." Lizzie pulled her leg warmer onto her right calf and began to stretch it out. "Besides, March is too late. I want to get hired as soon as possible. I'd rather just send out audition DVDs and have the companies call me if they're interested."

"Alright. Well, maybe I can get some press around you so companies will be interested."

"No," Lizzie said forcefully. "No press. If companies want me, it should be because I'm a good dancer. No other reason. I refuse to be in a company that just wants me for publicity or for money."

She heard Mary sigh. "Alright. So I should just forget all these open auditions?"

"Yes."

"_Dance Spirit_ wants an interview with you."

"Why?"

"They're wondering what you've been up to since the accident. It's been almost a year, and it's no secret that you're trying to get back into ballet. I think they just want to be the first to break the story."

"Is _Dance Spirit_ the magazine that published that garbage about me?" Lizzie tried to remember.

"No, that was _Pointe_."

"Okay, well say no to _Dance Spirit_ for now. If I get in anywhere and they still want an interview, I'll give it to them, but don't tell them that."

"Alright. I guess that's all. I'll be in touch."

"Bye, Mary."

Lizzie laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Ballet was the answer. It always had been. She wasn't sure how, but Lizzie knew that ballet would provide an answer for _her_ scar and _everyone else's_ doubts.

**October 4; 2:45PM**  
Lizzie sat in Mary's office and watched as the older woman packaged all the audition DVDs and prepared them for shipping. All of her hard work amounted to this. Seven months worth of training came down to these disks. There were about ten DVDs, to be sent to every major ballet company on the east coast. One would also go to San Francisco, three to France, and one last one to the Royal Ballet in the UK.

Lizzie would go wherever she could dance, but if she could choose, she'd stay in New York or go San Francisco to be closer to her father. It had always been a dream to dancein France or the UK, but they were long shots.

While she was confident in her abilities, Lizzie knew how brutal this industry was. She knew not to expect much. Sure, she was the Elizabeth Bennet, but many viewed her as washed up and done. She was also getting old, according to ballet standards. There was also the ugly scar marring her right calf. The odds weren't great. All Lizzie had to offer was her experience and her talent, and it _had_ to be enough.

Honestly, Lizzie knew it wouldn't be the end of the world if she didn't get a job. She'd already gone further than most people had expected. She could dance recreationally, and she had enough money saved up to not have to work for a while. Even if she never worked again, her trust fund would cover her. It wasn't about money though. It had never been about money. It was about _ballet_. It was about _happiness_. It was about the fact that ballet and happiness went hand in hand for her. She was only happy if she could dance and perform.

**October 13; 10:50AM**  
Lizzie wasn't sure what she expected from the first call, but she definitely had not expected to _miss_ it.

She was in the studio by herself, dancing for fun. She didn't hear her phone go off. When she saw a missed call from an unfamiliar number, Lizzie didn't give it much thought. They hadn't left a message.

The phone rang again while she was leaving the studio. It was Mary calling.

"Yeah?" Lizzie answered as she opened the door and walked outside.

"Why didn't you answer your phone before?" Mary demanded.

"How did you know someone called me?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"Lizzie, Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre wants you to come audition."

"You're kidding!" Excitement began to bubble in her stomach.

"I'm not. They called you first, but you didn't answer, so they called me."

"Shit. Do they think I'm a flake?" Lizzie laughed.

"No, no. They'll call you later, I think. I was just calling to ask when you'd want to set up your appointment with them."

"Whenever!" Lizzie cried. "My whole schedule's clear."

Mary laughed. "Okay, good to know. I'll be sure t-"

A beep cut her off. Lizzie looked at the phone and saw an unfamiliar number again. "Hang on, Mary. I have someone on the other line. It's probably Pittsburgh. Can I call you back?"

"Yes, of course," Mary replied hastily.

Lizzie clicked over. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"My name is Jessica Stanford. I'm the director of the Boston Ballet Company. I was calling in regards to your audition DVD. We'd love for you to come audition in person sometime."

"I'm sorry, did you say you were from _Boston_ Ballet?"

"Yes. We received your DVD a few days ago, and are very interested in having you here."

_Two companies in one day?_ Lizzie thought excitedly. "I'd love to," Lizzie said, grinning so widely that a man walking past her gave her a confused look. She didn't care. "My manager is handling my schedule, so you can give her a call and set up a date."

"Yes, your manager is Mary?"

"Yes. Do you have her number?"

There was some shuffling before the woman responded. "Yes. I will definitely give her a call. I look forward to meeting you, Miss Bennet."

"Likewise," Lizzie replied.

When she hung up the phone, Lizzie let out a little squeal of delight. She had to fight the urge to dance all the way home.

**October 16; 7:21AM**  
About half an hour before her alarm was supposed to go off, Lizzie's phone gave a shrill ring. She fumbled blindly for it and answered with a sleepy hello.

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes?" She stifled a yawn.

"My name is James Vindell. I'm with the Royal Ballet Company in London."

"Shit," Lizzie muttered, eyes popping open.

"I'm sorry?"

"Hmm? I didn't say anything," Lizzie lied.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Did I wake you? I tried to be mindful of the time difference, but I don't think I got it right."

"It's fine."

"Okay. Well, Miss Bennet, I'm calling to offer you an audition with us."

Lizzie quickly slapped her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream out in excitement. An audition with one of the most famous ballet companies in the world! "I'd love to."

"Wonderful," the man on the other end said. "Now, we'd like to have you audition as soon as possible because, as I'm sure you know, Christmas is a busy time for us."

"Yes, I understand."

"So when can we expect you?"

"I'll have to check with my manager about my schedule," Lizzie answered, trying to sound calm. "I'll have her call you back with dates that I'm available."

"Excellent. I will be eagerly awaiting the call."

**October 19; 11:54AM**  
"You have to come with me to England," Lizzie said to Mallory as they were leaving the studio.

Mallory laughed. "What?"

"Come _on_," Lizzie pleaded. "You're always going on and on about how you wish you had time to visit. Now you do."

"What are you talking about? I still don't have time." Mallory locked the door of the studio.

"I'm going the first week of November for four days. All four of those days I've booked with you in the studio. I know I'm your only appointment those days, I checked with your secretary. That gives you time to go with me." Lizzie smiled slyly. "If you go, I won't have to pay cancellation fees to your office."

The older woman laughed again. "So _that's_ the reason you want me to go."

"Of course." Lizzie grinned. "That, and you're my trainer, and I'd really like you there."

Mallory's eyes softened. "You can do this on your own, Lizzie. You're a great dancer."

"Because of _you_." Lizzie stared into her trainer's wise eyes. "Can't I at least take you to England with me as a thank you gift?"

"You're offering to pay for my trip?" Mallory's eyes widened substantially.

Lizzie shrugged. "If that's what it takes to get you to come."

"Why do you want me to go with you so badly?"

"Because I don't really know England that well, and I'd like a local to show me around."

"Not so I'll put in a good word for you at Royal Ballet?" Mallory teased.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "You said I was a great dancer, and I could do this on my own."

"I did, and I meant it."

"So just take a short vacation with me. You can do whatever you want most of the time. I'd just like you to help me practice for a few hours a day."

"We both know you don't need me as your trainer anymore, Lizzie."

"Yeah, but I need you as my_ friend_."

"I'm touched," Mallory replied softly. "And now I can't very well say no without feeling like a bitch."

Lizzie laughed. "Good. It's settled then."

"I won't let you pay for my trip though, Lizzie." Then Mallory's eyes lit up. "I'll make my husband pay!"

"You should bring him too. I'd love to meet him."

"That's actually a good idea. I'll run it by him, and get back to you."

Lizzie hugged Mallory tightly. "We're going to England!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **It's amazing what a weekend without homework and a bunch of great reviews can do for the muse. :]

Thanks to Lyndell for betaing so quickly.

Sorry for the lack of Darcy/Lizzie action in this chapter. I promise to make up for it in the next chapter.

I don't really have much to say except that I have another paper due tomorrow. So I shouldn't even be updating. But that's how much I adore you guys. Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter.


	17. You Finally Find You And I Collide

******Closer by everymonday**

******Chapter Seventeen: You Finally Find You And I Collide**

******---**

**November 5; 2:22PM**  
"What's going on?" Lizzie asked, looking out the taxi window at the commotion outside the very grand looking hotel. There were photographers fighting to get close to two figures walking into the hotel. It looked like a couple, but Lizzie wasn't sure because she couldn't see much of them.

Mallory peered out the window to see. "Probably a celebrity."

"The paparazzi are just as bad here, then?"

Mallory nodded. "Have you had problems with them before?"

"Usually when I'm with Jane. The demand for a famous model is much higher than the demand for a ballet dancer." Lizzie glanced out the window again. "Who do you think it is they're taking pictures of?"

"I hope it's Hugh Dancy. I adore that man." Mallory smiled teasingly at her husband.

Edward Gardiner didn't look up from his book. "I hope it's Claire Danes."

Mallory laughed. "I'm not threatened by Claire Danes!"

"You should be, Hugh's with her." Ed said, finally meeting Mallory's eyes. At her crestfallen look, he laughed. "It's probably one of the Darcys. You know how the press love them."

"That's stupid. Why would they be going to their own hotel?"

"Well, they don't _live _in London, do they?" Ed asked, shutting his book as the taxi began to park. "They'll need a place to stay, so they would stay at their own hotel."

"Wait a minute," Lizzie said, her mind finally coming back from the shock of hearing the name Darcy. "The Darcys own _this_ hotel?"

Ed nodded. "This hotel and every other Pemberley Hotel in the country. Ana Darcy is like the British Paris Hilton."

Mallory snorted. "She is not. Don't insult the poor girl like that. She's a hotel heiress, but that's about all they have in common."

"Ana Darcy?" Lizzie repeated, wishing with all her heart that the name didn't sound so familiar. "Is she related to Will Darcy?" There was no way she could be related to Will Darcy. Fate _couldn't_ be that cruel.

"Yeah. He's her brother." Mallory was looking at her curiously. "Lizzie, what's wrong?"

Lizzie swallowed. This could not be happening. William Darcy could _not _own a hotel. He could not own_ the _hotel _she_ was staying at. "We can't stay here," she announced.

"Why not?" Ed asked, confused.

"We just can't." Lizzie shook her head and looked around, trying to think of an alternative.

"Just because of Ana and Will Darcy?" Mallory laughed when Lizzie nodded. "What do you have against them?"

"Nothing," Lizzie insisted. "I just don't think we should stay here."

Just then, the taxi driver got out and began to unload their bags.

"Tell him we have to go somewhere else," Lizzie hissed to Mallory.

Mallory simply laughed again. "Don't worry about it, Lizzie. The Darcys own hundreds of hotels. This isn't the only Pemberley Hotel in the UK, you know."

"You don't even know if the Darcys are here," Ed added. "Who knows? Mal might get lucky, and it'll be Hugh Dancy after all."

Lizzie looked out the window one last time to see the photographer frenzy had ceased for now. They were simply standing around. Some even looked like they were leaving. Mallory and Ed began to get out of the taxi, so, with a great sigh of defeat, Lizzie followed.

The hotel interior was just as grand and beautiful as its exterior. Lizzie had been in her share of hotels, but none had been quite as breathtaking as the Pemberley. The large windows allowed ample amounts of natural light in to complement the artificial lighting perfectly. The columned arches and polished marble floors gave the lobby an elegant, majestic feel. It was a beautiful view from every direction.

It was relatively calm in the lobby, except for a group of people crowded near the front desk.

"We'll check in," Ed offered.

Lizzie smiled gratefully at him as he and Mallory went to the front desk. A gold plaque on the wall caught Lizzie's eye and she moved closer to get a better look. She was in the middle of reading the short history behind Pemberley Hotels when an all too familiar British voice said her name.

"Elizabeth? Is that you?"

She whirled around and was met with Will Darcy, looking almost exactly as she had seen him last. He was wearing a suit and looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Lizzie blurted out. She glanced behind his shoulder to see the crowd at the front desk had scattered. There was only a slender brunette talking to the girl at the desk, and Mallory and Ed.

"I'm visiting my sister," he answered.

"You _own_ this hotel!" she exclaimed, unable to contain herself.

He winced. "Well, technically, no. My sister and Rich do."

"What?" Not waiting for him to reply, she asked, "Why aren't you in New York?"

He smiled a little. "I'm visiting my sister," he repeated.

"But," Lizzie bit her lip. "I didn't know you would be here."

Will nodded. "I don't see how you could have known."

"They said you wouldn't be here," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Who?"

"Mallory and Ed." She didn't bother elaborating on who these people were, even though she knew Will didn't know. Instead, she looked over his shoulder again and saw that they were now conversing with the brunette.

"Who are they?"

"My trainer and her husband," Lizzie answered, glaring at them.

"I see." Will rocked on the balls of his feet. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I have an audition with the Royal Ballet Company in a few days."

"Oh," Will said, eyes widening. "That's really good. That's great! Congratulations."

Lizzie smiled a little. "Well, I haven't actually done anything. I haven't made it into the company yet."

"Still," Will insisted. "They're pretty big right? They don't just give auditions to everyone who asks."

"That's true."

"So congratulations." He gave her a genuine smile. "You're staying here?"

Lizzie started chewing on her thumbnail. "I think so, but we don't have to if that's weird or-"

"No!" Will interrupted. "It's fine. I could even have them upgrade your room if you'd like."

"No, that's really alright," Lizzie insisted, wondering why he was being so nice to her. Had he forgotten how she'd acted towards him last time they'd seen each other? _She_ hadn't forgotten. That was probably why there was this uncomfortable feeling gnawing at her.

"You should meet my sister," he said abruptly.

"I should?" Lizzie asked stupidly.

He nodded. "I've told her about you." At her horrified look, Will smiled reassuringly. "Nothing bad."

Her expression changed to one of disbelief, but before she could say more, Mallory, Ed, and the brunette approached them.

"Lizzie," Mallory called. "Turns out they weren't photographing Hugh Dancy."

Ed chuckled. "I think Lizzie figured that out for herself, Mal."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "This is my trainer Mallory Gardiner and her husband Edward."

Will shook both their hands with a smile. "I'm Will Darcy."

"Aren't you going to introduce _me_?" the brunette asked Will, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

Will put an arm around her shoulder and grinned. "This is my sister, Georgiana."

"You can just call me Ana." She smiled and offered her hand to Lizzie.

"Elizabeth Bennet." Lizzie tried to return the smile, but shock was preventing it. The girl had very long brown hair and gray eyes that were the exact shade as Will's. She had his nose and lips, but Will's hard lines were softened on her face. Her face looked like she was about nineteen or twenty, but she was dressed so professionally in a business skirt and jacket that Lizzie wondered if she might be older. Lizzie tried to remember if Will had ever mentioned her age.

"It's very nice to meet you." Ana smiled. She glanced at her brother slyly for a minute before adding, "Finally."

Lizzie wasn't sure what that meant, so she just nodded. Then she cleared her throat and looked at Mallory. "We all checked in?"

"Yeah," Mallory answered, handing Lizzie her key card. "Your room is across from ours. They already took our bags up so we better get going."

Ed turned to the Darcy siblings. "It was very nice to meet you both."

Lizzie nodded in agreement and gave a small smile before turning to leave with Mallory and Ed.

"How do you know Will Darcy?" Ed asked curiously.

"He sewed up my leg," Lizzie muttered, trying to clear her mind. It was filled with Will's easy smile and his sister's friendly demeanor. She was sure Ana must know all about the way she acted in Texas. Her rude behavior just now probably cemented it. She hadn't even apologized to him yet. "I'll meet you up with you guys later, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Mallory questioned.

"I have to go back and talk to Will," Lizzie called as she raced back down the hall.

She found Will and his sister in the same place she'd left them in. They seemed to be having a hushed argument about something as Will was shaking his head and Ana looked like she was pleading with him.

"Will?" Lizzie asked tentatively when she approached them.

"Yes?" His surprise was evident.

"I-" What was she supposed to say? "I just wanted-I needed to…" She trailed off, losing her nerve.

"Oh, Cynthia's calling me!" Ana announced abruptly, looking at her phone that had definitely not gone off. "Please excuse me."

Will gave his sister an amused smile. "She's not very subtle," he told Lizzie.

Lizzie couldn't make her lips smile back. "I'm so sorry."

Will shrugged. "It's hardly anything to be sorry about. I mean, it's kind of funny sometimes, actually."

"No," Lizzie said, voice shaking. "I-I'm sorry about everything. About George, about all the yelling, about the way I acted before and…everything."

Will's gray eyes studied her calmly. "It's quite alright, Elizabeth."

Lizzie shook her head miserably. "It's _not_. I was so horrible to you. You were right about me being immature and stupid and everything. I feel so awful."

"Elizabeth, don't worry about it. It's in the past. Besides, it's not as if I gave you much reason to like me either."

She bit her lip. "I'm still sorry."

"I accept your apology," Will replied awkwardly. He seemed to be deliberating over something.

Lizzie nodded, feeling very uncomfortable. He was probably wondering why he was accepting her apology. If she was in his place, she wouldn't have accepted it. She was getting nervous. "Okay, well, I better get going."

"Have dinner with us," Will said suddenly.

"I'm sorry?" Lizzie was not sure she heard him correctly.

"Have dinner with us. You should have dinner with my sister and me." He looked like he couldn't believe he'd made the suggestion either.

"I-"

"Yes, please do!" Ana said from her spot ten feet away. She blushed when she realized she was supposed to be pretending to be on the phone.

"I really don't want to intrude," Lizzie replied politely.

"You're not intruding," Ana insisted.

Will smirked at his sister. "Is there even a point to you pretending to be on the phone anymore?" She stuck her tongue out at him and walked further away.

"I should get going," Lizzie said hastily.

"Oh." He looked upset, but she didn't think she could analyze that right now. "Right. Of course."

Lizzie nodded. "I-it was nice seeing you."

**November 5; 5:54PM**  
It _had_ to mean something. It had to _mean_ something. Elizabeth Bennet being here had to mean _something_. Will Darcy was not a believer in fate or destiny or anything of the sort, but he _knew_ that Elizabeth Bennet being here _had to mean something_, damn it.

Something was wrong with him. Something was _definitely_ wrong with him. He was still hung up on this girl, a girl that had turned him down in the harshest way possible. She'd made herself quite clear two months ago.

But she was _here_, and she _apologized_. It had to mean something. Sure, the apology had been a bit ambiguous, and they still probably had a lot to talk about, but she was here. So that had to mean something, _right_?

These were the thoughts that had led him where he was now: standing in front of Elizabeth Bennet's door, trying to gather the courage to knock. Just as he raised his fist to rap against the wood, the door behind him opened, making him jump.

"Mr. Darcy?" a male voice said from behind him.

He quickly ran his fisted hand over his hair and turned around to find the man that he'd met earlier. "Hello." He couldn't remember the name. Will was awful with names.

"I'm Edward Gardiner," the man politely provided "We met earlier."

Will nodded sheepishly. "Hello, Mr. Gardiner. Please call me Will."

"I'll call you Will if you call me Ed."

He nodded again. "Alright."

"Were you looking for Lizzie?"

Will felt his face heat up. "No, I was-was-I was checking so-something."

"Oh, I see," Ed replied. Will could tell the man didn't believe him, but he was glad Ed was polite enough not to say anything.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them and Will tried to think of something to say, but, as always, couldn't.

"Lizzie and Mal went to check out the studio down the street," Ed offered. "They said they'd be back in about ten minutes, and of course that was about two hours ago."

"Right," Will nodded. "I-I wasn't looking for Elizabeth-them-I wasn't looking for them though."

"You were just checking something." Ed nodded back, a knowing smile on his lips. "Mal and I have a dinner date, and I'm actually going to the studio to remind her right now. Lizzie might stay in the studio until her time is up."

"Her time?" Will asked before he could stop himself.

"They reserved time in the studio for a few hours," Ed clarified. "Maybe you could persuade her to leave early."

"I doubt it" He snorted.

Ed laughed. "Yeah, she's really crazy about her dancing."

Will knew it probably wasn't just her dancing that would make Elizabeth say no to him, but he decided it was best not to say anything to Ed.

"Want to come with me to try and convince her anyway?" Ed offered.

"Oh, no." Will shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on," Ed insisted. "Unless you're busy still checking things?"

Will had the distinct feeling he was being challenged, but he couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm all done with that."

"So do you want to come with me?"

"I should let my sister know first," Will replied.

"You could bring her too, if you'd like," Ed said. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

Will nodded and walked away to find his sister.

This _had_ to mean_ something_.

**November 5; 6:09PM**  
"Shit," Ana muttered.

"Language," Will scolded half-heartedly.

"I'm a little too old for that." Ana rolled her eyes. "Besides, I know you were thinking the same thing."

Will stared out the tinted glass doors at the photographers that were waiting outside. Ana was right. He had been thinking the same thing, but there was no use confirming it.

"Maybe I should go without you guys," Ed suggested. "Lizzie doesn't want any press to know she's connected to Mal."

"Why not?" Ana asked.

"Mallory's a big name in ballet, and Lizzie doesn't want to be connected with her."

"Why not?" she asked again.

"It'll affect her chances with ballet companies."

"In a good way though, right?"

"Only if Lizzie wanted to get in based on her connections," Ed replied.

"Which she doesn't," Will concluded.

"Which she definitely doesn't," Ed repeated, nodding**. **"And if the press get wind that Lizzie's also connected to the Darcys, it would be even worse."

"I suppose we'll just stay here then," Will said, resigned.

"No!" Ana exclaimed. "There has to be a way for Will to go."

"It's not that big a deal, Ana," Will told her.

"I can cause a distraction!"

"A distraction?" Will repeated, amused.

"Maybe I can go out first and get them to follow me."

"A few will follow you, but not all of them, Ana. They know I'm here." Will smiled. "Besides, they're more interested in me than you anyway."

Ana rolled her eyes. "Only because they don't see you as often as me!"

Ed laughed. "Well, you two should decide soon."

"I can do it, Will." Ana began to tie her shirt in a knot about an inch above her bellybutton. "It's worth a shot."

"What are you doing?" Will asked as she began to lower the waistband of her pants.

"Well, I have to make it a worthwhile picture opportunity," Ana said in a tone that clearly implied Will should know this. "Just wait until they all follow me, then go."

Will watched helplessly as she shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. "You're going to get sick."

Ana laughed. "Will, you're a _doctor_. You should know that you can't catch a cold from not wearing a coat. Colds are spread through _germs_."

Ed chuckled. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Will confirmed, defeated. "Ana, you're ridiculous."

"All for you and _because_ of you, big brother." Ana grinned as she put her sunglasses on and walked confidently out of the hotel.

"Special sister you've got there, Will," Ed commented.

Will nodded in agreement as he watched as said sister pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed with one hand, waving to photographers with the other. Suddenly his cell phone rang, taking his attention away from her.

Will stared at the phone. It was Ana calling. "What's the problem?"

"Oh, hello, darling," his sister replied loudly. "I'm leaving the hotel right now. I managed to get away from that _overbearing_ older brother of mine."

"Excuse me?" Will asked, affronted.

"Yes, Will has _no_ idea I'm going to meet you." Will could barely hear her over the yells and clicks of the photographers. "I'll try to lose these photographers, and then I'll be there, okay?"

"Ana, what the hell are you doing?" He watched as his sister looked both ways and crossed the street.

She giggled. "Darling! Don't be so _dirty_! I'll be there as soon as I can."

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ana, couldn't you have just_ pretended_ to be on the phone instead of actually calling me?"

His sister giggled again. "Oh, _baby_. Where's the fun in that?"

He groaned. Ed gave him a curious look. "I'm going to need therapy for weeks, Ana."

"_Darling_, don't worry. Will has no idea, and the paparazzi will get tired of trying to figure out where I'm going. They'll _never_ figure it out."

"The photographers seem to be taking the bait," Ed said, watching as the whole crew of photographers tripped over themselves to get a picture of his sister.

"I think they're all following you, Ana," Will told her.

Ana turned around to look at the photographers behind her. "No, no. I'm sure no one knows who you are. Can you imagine the amount of _crazy_ that would amount if they figured out who you were? Georgiana freakin' Darcy dating a man _ten_ years older than her?"

"Should I be worried you have this story so planned out?" He couldn't see Ana anymore because of the distance and the swarm of paparazzi.

"Don't you have something to tell _me_, honey?" Ana asked.

Will was confused. What would he have to tell her? "What are you talking about now? What do you I have to tell you? How long do I have to stay on the phone with you?"

"You should tell her all of the photographers have gone after her," Ed suggested.

"The photographers are all after you," Will told her.

"Oh, good. That's what I want to hear. You always say the right things to me," Ana replied. "I've got to go now, baby. I can barely hear you over all this noise!"

Before Will could respond, he heard the phone click. He turned to Ed. "I think we're in the clear. Let me grab a hat and sunglasses just to be safe."

Will went to the front desk to get his makeshift disguise and dropping off his sister's coat before leaving with the older man.

**November 5; 6:35PM**  
Nothing could have prepared Will for the sight of Elizabeth Bennet dancing. He was stunned by the perfection of her graceful movements and the power of her leaps. She made it look effortless and he knew it wasn't – far from it. He had known she had been a great dancer He had read enough magazines about her to know that. However, nothing could have prepared him for the actual sight of it.

Will was not a ballet expert or fanatic. He had never even given ballet much thought before meeting Elizabeth. He'd never been impressed by it until he saw her dance. He could now see what all the fuss was about. Elizabeth Bennet was a truly amazing and talented dancer. Had he not sewn up her leg himself, Will would have never believed that she had sustained any type of injury at all.

Will stood in the doorway, behind Ed, watching Elizabeth do leaps and spins. Mallory looked over at the sound of the door opening, but Elizabeth didn't. Mallory motioned them closer, but Will stayed rooted to the spot, watching this amazing woman spin.

"She's just showing off for you guys now," Mallory said to her husband.

Elizabeth laughed, but didn't stop spinning. Will was getting dizzy watching her.

"You can stop any time, Lizzie," Mallory called.

"I'll stop when I want to!" She continued spinning.

"You had better watch your landing."

After a few more spins, Elizabeth stopped. "That landing good enough for you?"

"It'll do," Mallory joked. "Get some water."

Elizabeth nodded. "Hey Ed." She turned and gave Will a hesitant smile. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Come to see Lizzie dance?" Mallory teased. "She won't let anyone see her, you know."

"Yeah, you should be paying money for this show," Elizabeth agreed sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

"How much?" Will asked with a grin.

His bad joke surprised her, and she tried to hide it by looking away and adjusting the legwarmer on her right calf.

"Are you allowed to wear the legwarmer for your audition?"

Elizabeth froze, and both Ed and Mallory stared at him.

Will frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No," Mallory answered. "She's not allowed to wear that."

"Is there, um, a point to wearing it? Besides covering the scar?"

Mallory smirked. "Not really."

"Mal," Elizabeth warned, as she pulled a pair of pants over her legs. "Don't lie."

"It keeps her muscles warm." Mallory rolled her eyes.

"I see. Your leg's not bothering you, then?"

Elizabeth smirked. "Did it look like it was bothering me?"

"No," Will answered. "Not at all."

She nodded, looking satisfied.

"You looked amazing," Will told her honestly.

An endearing blush spread across her cheeks, and she looked away.

"Are you ready for dinner?" Ed asked his wife.

Mallory smiled and nodded. "Lizzie, you'll be okay by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," Elizabeth replied from her spot on the floor where she was stretching.

"The studio's only booked until seven," Mallory reminded her. "Do you want to go to dinner with us?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Of course," Ed muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Don't pretend you want a third wheel on your date. I'll see you guys back at the hotel," Elizabeth told him. "I'm going to finish stretching. I can't be seen in public with Mallory anyway."

Mallory laughed. "Don't be a jerk, Lizzie."

"Can you even_ find_ your way back?" Ed asked.

"It's down the street," Elizabeth scoffed.

"Yeah, well, so was the airport," Mallory stage whispered.

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, let it go!"

Will felt like he was missing out on a joke, but remained silent.

"We'll see you back at the hotel," Ed said as he led his wife out.

"Want to hear a funny story?" Will asked as soon as the older couple shut the door behind them.

Elizabeth gave him a curious look, but nodded. "Sure."

"My sister, Ana, who hates the paparazzi and everything about them, offered to face them for me so I could get away. She tried to make her clothing 'photography worthy' by tying her shirt and lowering her pants. Then she called me and pretended I was her boyfriend or something."

She smiled politely, but didn't laugh.

"I suppose it's only funny if you really know my sister," Will said, half to himself. He scratched his eyebrow and looked at her sheepishly.

"Maybe you had to be there." Elizabeth shrugged.

He gave her a grateful smile. "Yeah, maybe." Will watched her stand up and pull her leg and bend it behind her. "We might have more funny moments at dinner. You should join us - Ana and me."

Elizabeth let her leg go and bent her other one. "Dinner?"

Will nodded. "Yeah. I know you said you weren't hungry, so I was thinking maybe later?"

She let go of her leg and stood so that she was facing him completely with a hesitant smile on her face. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay, great." He nodded again, pleased.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" She was wringing her hands together and looking anywhere but him.

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"Everything?" She began biting her thumbnail on her right hand and wrapped her left arm around herself.

It took him a few moments to realize she was referring to _everything_ before today. He knew he should apologize for everything he'd done before today too, because he had done and said some terrible things as well. However, he just couldn't bring himself to form the words.

"I understand that you don't," she said hastily when he didn't answer. "I should get changed."

He quickly grabbed her arm as she tried to rush past him. "Elizabeth."

"It's fine, Will," she insisted, still not looking at him. "I wouldn't forgive me either."

"I'm sorry too," he said softly, surprising himself.

Elizabeth finally looked him with her exceptionally bright eyes. She bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Should I," he cleared his throat. "Wait for you?"

"What?"

"Should I wait for you to change your clothes and walk you back?" he clarified. "The press don't know I'm here, so I don't think it's any risk to you."

"Oh." She looked contemplative. "If you don't mind."

"I don't," he assured her.

Her lips curved into an unsure smile. "I'll meet you by the main doors then."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for you encouraging and kind words. They're so nice to read, especially since my professor is saying my writing is not creative enough (maybe I should show him this story?).

Thanks to Lyndell for editing quickly and making my writing better. Thanks to Lizzy for being on AIM and helping with a few details.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it too. If you've read this far, you might as well leave a review. Please. :]


	18. She Puts The Color Inside of My World

**Author's Note:** SallyW - Thanks for your review. I would have addressed these points in a private message, but since you don't have an account, I felt I should still defend myself. I actually do know quite a bit about _English_ people, but since most of the story is from Lizzie's point of view, who I've worked hard to make distinctly American (which is why I spell her name Lizzie and not Lizzy), and she, like a lot of Americans, call English people British. I admit I don't know anything about medicine, which is why I looked up as much as I could and also asked a few people to help me (they were either medical students or actual healthcare professionals), so I'm sorry you don't think that was enough. I'd like to know what is wrong with the medical accounts I've described (I'm actually curious, I'm not being hostile).

Thanks to everyone else for your kind words of encouragement. I really do appreciate it. I'm trying to pay you back for all the reviews by blowing off writing essays so I can write this instead. :]

Also thanks to Lyndell for catching all of my idiotic mistakes this chapter (I made quite few, and I'm rather embarrassed lol).

My finals for the summer classes are next week, and this weekend is an American holiday, so I might not have much time to write. I'll try to get one more chapter out before finals start, but after that, we might go back to weekly, rather than bi-weekly updates. Sorry, guys.

Sorry for rambling. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

******Closer by everymonday**

******Chapter Eighteen: She Puts The Color Inside of My World  
**

******---**

**November 5; 8:46PM**  
Hotel _room_ was a very misleading word to describe the place that Will Darcy took her to. It was much too big to be considered a _room_. It was more of a collection of very large and finely decorated rooms. It had a kitchen and sitting area and a few closed doors, one of which probably led to the actual _room_ where he slept. Lizzie was almost positive that it was bigger than the apartment she shared with Jane. There were also certain _implications_ when a man invites a woman to his hotel _room_, especially after said man had confessed some pretty serious feelings for said woman months earlier. There were even more implications when said woman actually accepted the invitation and showed up freshly showered and made up.

Lizzie stood there, biting her lower lip and trying not to look too intimidated by her surroundings.

"You look nice," he commented softly after a few minutes of silence.

She looked down at her attire. Since he had said dinner would be a casual event in his room, Lizzie had opted for some gray slacks with an evergreen off-the-shoulder top. "Um, thanks."

"My sister should be here soon," he informed her. "She said she was going to shower, then head over."

She wouldn't have to be alone with him in this awkward limbo for much longer. That was a relief. "Okay."

He stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans and looked around. Lizzie tried to ignore how good he looked in his fitted black sweater and dark blue jeans. She tried to remember if she'd ever seen him in something as casual as jeans. She was sure she hadn't.

"Would you like some wine?"

Lizzie found a strange sense of comfort from the fact that he seemed to be just as uncomfortable as she was. "Sure."

"Please have a seat." Will gestured to the sofa before leaving the room.

_This was a bad idea_, she thought to herself as she sat down. _It's so awkward_. Lizzie began chewing on her lower lip, wondering why she had even agreed to this – or why he had even offered. Maybe it would have been less awkward if it wasn't in his_ room_. His very large and intimidating _room_ of rooms. It made sense that they would have dinner here, she knew. It was private, and Will assured her that he could get delivery, not that that mattered because Lizzie doubted she'd be able to eat much.

The door suddenly opened and in walked Ana. "Will? Did I leave my blow-dryer in your room?" She stopped when she saw Lizzie on the couch, surprise apparent on her face. "Oh! Hello, Elizabeth!"

Lizzie smiled. The girl was wearing navy lounge pants and a wrinkled, pink shirt. Her hair was dripping wet and left dark water spots on her shirt. She had no shoes on. It was quite a contrast from the made-up, grown-up looking girl Lizzie had met earlier today. "Hi, Ana."

Ana gave her a once over before looking down at herself. "Oh bloody hell, is that what you're wearing? I should change then."

"Don't do anything on my account."

"Will said I could wear whatever I wanted." Ana flipped her long, wet hair over one shoulder. "But I can't have dinner in pajamas if you're wearing normal clothes."

"Yes, you can," Will said as he re-entered the room with two glasses of deep red wine. He handed one to Lizzie, then frowned at the state his sister was in. "You should dry your hair though."

Ana rolled her eyes. "I think I left my blow-dryer in here." Without another word, she went through one of the doors. Seconds later, they heard the distinctive sounds of a blow-dryer.

Will sat down next to Lizzie on the couch, thankfully leaving enough room for another person to sit between them. "She left it in here this morning when she decided to get ready in my room."

"Why was she getting ready in here?"

"Ana had a meeting she wanted me to go to with her. She got ready in here to make sure I was getting ready too, not sleeping or something." Will shrugged. "I think she's used to Rich's habits."

Lizzie smiled. "How is Rich?"

"He's fine," Will replied tersely.

"Is he here?"

"No, he's in Spain right now, I think." He looked bitter.

"Why is he in Spain?"

"Business." Will's clipped tone and clenched jaw made her curious.

"Are you not happy with him?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You just don't seem to like answering questions about him."

Will studied his wine glass and did not reply. "What do you want for dinner?"

It was a very deliberate subject change, but Lizzie decided not to push it. "It doesn't matter."

"Ana will probably have something in mind." He took a sip of his wine.

"Okay."

They sat together, with no words passing between them, for a few moments before Ana emerged from the bathroom, hair completely dry. "What riveting conversationalists you two are."

"We can't all be social butterflies like you,," Will retorted. "You never told me, where'd you end up leading the photographers?"

She sat down on the floor on the other end of the coffee table so that she was facing them. "Well, I walked around a bit, but after about twenty minutes, I got cold-"

"I told you," Will interrupted, handing his sister a throw pillow.

Ana rolled her eyes but accepted the pillow to sit on. "So I got into a taxi and went to a restaurant. I had a cup of tea and paid a guy five pounds to sit and talk to me in front of the window for a little bit."

"You _paid_ someone to talk to you?" Will asked incredulously.

"Sure." His sister shrugged. "I had to keep their attention. I didn't know how long you would be at the studio with Elizabeth and didn't want any of them coming back early."

"Thanks." He smiled. "Did you want some wine?"

"I'll have some with dinner." Ana looked at Lizzie. "So what do you want to eat?"

"Anything's fine." Lizzie took a sip of her own wine.

"You don't have any preference?" Ana frowned. "We can get food from any restaurant in London."

"Really?"

"Sure. It's one of the perks of being a Darcy."

"Well, I don't really know any restaurants around here," Lizzie confessed. "So you can choose. I'm not picky."

"Alright." She turned to her brother. "Where's your laptop? I'll look up some menus."

Will reached under the coffee table and produced a silver Macbook. "Here."

Ana opened it and made a disgusted face when she saw the programs that were already open. "Bovine valve replacements? Were you _studying_ on vacation?"

Will rolled his eyes. "You made me take two weeks off work, Ana. What did you expect?"

"I expected you to relax!" She shook her head and turned to Lizzie. "It was his birthday three days ago, and he was going to spend it _working_!"

Lizzie smiled. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," Ana answered for Will. "Old, right?"

"Yes." Lizzie laughed.

"You're twenty-five!" Will protested. "That's only two years younger!"

"It's not twenty-_seven _though."

"This is why I didn't want to celebrate my birthday," Will muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't complain, Will. If I hadn't convinced you to take time off, you wouldn't have met Elizabeth here."

Lizzie felt her face heat up, and she saw Will glare at his sister from the corner of her eye.

"You guys are so awkward." Ana chuckled to herself. "How about _Le Gavroche_ for dinner?"

Will rolled his eyes. "You should move to Paris. All you eat is French food. It's a disgrace to your English roots."

"English food is so plain though." Ana met Lizzie's gaze. "Were you hoping for English food while you were here? I could find a place with some good fish and chips, I suppose."

"French is fine," Lizzie assured her.

Ana smiled triumphantly at her brother. "Elizabeth says it's fine. I win, and my prize is Chef Roux's fine Soufflé Suissesse, but don't worry, dear brother, I'll share."

"I'm paying, so I would hope so," Will grumbled.

Ana picked up the open laptop and held it out for Lizzie to take. "Here's the menu. Sorry it's not very descriptive. Just order whatever you want. I promise everything's good. Will's paying, so you should order the most expensive thing."

"You don't have to do that. I can pay." Lizzie put down her wine glass before carefully accepting the laptop.

"It's much easier if it's on one bill," Will explained. "I have an account there, and they'll just bill it."

"But-"

"I insist," he firmly cut her off. "We can considerit my payment for watching you dance today."

Lizzie bit her lip and looked away.

"It's really not a big deal, Elizabeth," Ana assured her. "_I'll_ pay if it makes you feel better."

Will scooted closer, leaned in to Lizzie's ear and said, "Ever since she got access to her inheritance, she's been flaunting it like crazy."

Lizzie couldn't focus on his words. He was too close to her, and it was affecting her thought process. She could feel his breath on her cheek and smell his cologne. She swallowed and forced herself to focus on the words on the screen until he moved away. He only moved his head away from her ear though. He didn't scoot back to his end of the couch.

"I heard that." Ana narrowed her eyes at her brother. "I do _not _flaunt my money."

Will said something in response, but she didn't hear him. Lizzie was trying to read the menu and not think about how their legs were almost touching. The dishes were mostly described in French so it gave her mind something to doother than think about how close Will Darcy was to her.

"Elizabeth, don't you think Will flaunts his money more than I do?" Ana asked, a petulant pout playing on her lips.

Lizzie finally turned to Will with a hint of a smirk. "You do wear a lot of expensive name brand clothes."

Her words did not have the desired effect. Instead, Will grinned. "My sister picks out all of my clothes."

Ana snorted. "Oh, Will. Don't look so pleased with yourself. You just admitted that you can't dress yourself!"

Lizzie laughed. "She's got a point."

Will frowned. "Ana enjoys it."

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. "So you only let her pick out your clothes because you're a good brother and want your sister to be happy? Not because you're incompetent and pathetic?"

"Precisely," Will replied smoothly, smirking.

That made Lizzie laugh again. "Okay."

"He's lying," Ana said.

"I know," Lizzie replied.

Will frowned again. "I don't think I like you two together."

"Don't _lie_, Will. You _love_ us together. The two women that mean the worl-" She stopped abruptly, blushing. Ana shot her brother an apologetic look before clearing her throat and looking at Lizzie. "So did you decide what you were going to eat? I'm starving."

Lizzie didn't want to know what Ana had been about to say before she stopped herself. She didn't want to think about it at all, so she looked at the screen again. Just as she was making her decision, Will leaned closer to her again.

"What did I get last time, Ana?" he asked, apparently not noticing how uncomfortable it made her.

"Veal," Ana answered. "Will, that was _two_ days ago. You're getting forgetful in your old age."

Will ignored her. "Do you like veal?" he asked Lizzie, his face only inches from hers.

"I haven't had it in a while," Lizzie replied, trying to lean back so there was more distance between them. "I think I'm getting Les Petits Farcis Provençaux."

"Do you want anything else?" Will asked, still annoyingly close to her.

"No, that'll be fine."

"Are you sure? You're not being hesitant because we're paying, are you?" Ana looked at her suspiciously.

Lizzie couldn't help but smile at Ana. Her personality was so different from Will's closed, aloof one. "I'm sure."

"Well, you have to share a pudding with me then. Pick something good."

"Er, pudding?" Lizzie asked.

"Dessert," Will clarified for her. He looked at his sister. "You're eating pudding, a main dish, _and_ your cheese thing? God, how much are you going to eat?"

"Hey, I'm sharing that with you, and I'm sharing dessert with Elizabeth." Ana crossed her arms. "Be nice to me, Will. I created a distraction for you."

"You only did it to hold over my head later."

"Elizabeth," Ana said, ignoring her brother. "We should get the Soufflé aux Fruits de la Passion et Glace Ivoire."

"You're getting_ another _soufflé?" Will asked.

"This one's pudding – and only if Elizabeth agrees."

Lizzie had no idea what the dish was. Her French was very bad, but she picked out the word fruit, so she figured it'd be fine. "Sure." She handed the laptop to Will so he could make a decision – and also so that she could scoot away from him a bit to breathe.

"I'll just get veal again," Will announced, not bothering to look at the laptop. "The one I got last time – with the potatoes."

"You never try anything new!" Ana cried.

"Why would I? I know what I like."

"You're so_ boring_."

"You make me try whatever you get anyway."

Ana shook her head. "Veal's better when you actually sit down at the restaurant. They carve it right in front of you."

"Well, we can't go sit down at the restaurant."

"Yeah, so you should get something else."

Will groaned. "Ana, it tastes the same. It doesn't matter if they carve it in front of me or in front of the queen."

"Fine." She grabbed a pad of paper and pen and began writing. "So, Soufflé Suissesse, Les Petits Farcis Provençaux, Côte de Veau Rôtie aux Morilles, Chartreuse de Légumes et Pommes Mousseline, Homard et Tagliatelles Araguani au jus Pimenté et Purée de Céleri-Rave, and Soufflé aux Fruits de la Passion et Glace Ivoire, right?"

"I didn't understand any of that, Ana."

"Cheese soufflé, stuffed vegetables, veal, lobster, and passion fruit soufflé." Ana sighed. "Your refusal to speak anything other than English is terribly American of you." She blushed and looked at Lizzie apologetically. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Wait, they have lobster?" Will asked. "That's what you're getting?"

"Yes. You would know they had lobster if you had read the menu."

"I can't read French, Ana."

"You wouldn't have gotten it anyway." Ana turned to Lizzie. "He _loves_ veal. I think it has to do with the fact that his first year interning, everyone called him Bambi."

"That logic makes no sense," Will scoffed.

"You've hated deer ever since they nicknamed you that."

"So I eat _cow_ because I hate deer? Wouldn't I eat _deer_ if I hated deer?"

Ana's eyes widened, and she slapped her forehead with her hand. "Shit, veal is_ cow_. I thought it was deer for some reason."

"That's venison," Will told her.

"Fine. You win this round." Ana ripped the paper off the pad and handed it to Will. "Your prize is that you get to find my assistant, and tell her to take care of this."

Will took the paper from her with a huff. "You're so bossy."

"It's to counter your nagging," Ana quipped with an innocent smile.

"I'm working on it," Will mumbled.

As soon as Will left the room, Ana grinned at Lizzie, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I've never seen my brother fancy anyone as much as he fancies you."

Lizzie felt her face heat up.

"I've never seen him so unsure of himself. It's so fun to watch."

Her lack of response did nothing to discourage Ana.

"You guys are so cute together. I should leave you two alone together so you can have a proper date."

Lizzie coughed uncomfortably. "That's really unnecessary, Ana. This isn't a date."

"Because I'm here," Ana said, her face calculating

"No," Lizzie protested. "It's really not a date at all. It has nothing to do with you. Besides, I'm glad you're here."

Ana's grin widened. "It's because Will's a socially inept idiot, right?"

Lizzie laughed and picked up her wine glass. "Something like that."

The younger girl's eyes softened. "He's just like that because he fancies you and doesn't know how to deal with his feelings. He hasn't had a girlfriend in _years, _and his last one wasn't nearly as pretty and interesting as you."

Her words made Lizzie cough a bit of her wine up.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." Lizzie set down the wine glass, still coughing. "Does your brother know you're telling me all this?"

"Of course not," Ana replied. "Well, he's a smart guy, so I'm sure he has some idea that we're talking about him."

"_You're_ talking about him," Lizzie corrected. "I'm just sitting here uncomfortably."

"That's true." Ana laughed, delighted. "I have to tell you, I didn't expect _you_ to be awkward too. He spoke so highly of you."

"Your brother makes me feel awkward," Lizzie admitted.

"Because you like him too?" Ana asked eagerly.

"No," Lizzie answered quickly, too quickly.

Ana's face fell, but then her eyes hardened. "He's really great, you know. I mean, not when he's being weird and awkward, but he's a really good person."

"I know," Lizzie assured her, feeling bad that Ana thought she might be insulting Will. She was really not in any position to throw stones.

"He likes you a lot. He doesn't like many people."

"Ana," Lizzie said, rubbing her temples. "Your brother and I…It's complicated." Ana's face was expectant, but Lizzie was saved from being forced to elaborate when Will came back.

"Miss Reynolds called the restaurant and she will pick up the food as soon as it's ready," Will announced, sitting down next to Lizzie, so close their legs actually _were_ touching this time.

"Okay," Ana replied, still staring at Lizzie. The look in her eyes told Lizzie that she had not fully escaped having to explain herself.

"Why are you looking at Elizabeth like that?" Will asked, confused.

The younger girl finally looked away to meet her brother's eyes. "I'm imitating you." Will flushed and threw a pillow at her. She caught it effortlessly and threw it back. "You're so _easy_ to get a rise out of."

Will glared at her half-heartedly. "You're a horrible sister."

"I'm a _wonderful_ sister. You're lucky to have me."

He threw the pillow at her again.

Lizzie couldn't help but smile at their banter. It made her miss her own sister. She'd just seen Jane yesterday, but it had been a while since they'd had an open, light-hearted, teasing conversation. She sighed, wondering when that would be.

Noticing her change in mood, Will asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She smiled, but Lizzie knew it didn't quite reach her eyes because he still continued to watch her with concern. "Really." Lizzie took a sip of her wine so that she'd have something to do with her hands an excuse to look away from him.

"Are you tired?" Ana's eyes were on her now too. "Ask Will to give you a foot massage. He gives the best massages."

That suggestion made Lizzie choke on her wine again. She resolved not to drink anymore wine when Ana was talking, since the younger girl had a tendency to say things that made wine go down the wrong way. Will took the wine glass from her hand. His fingers brushing hers made her jump slightly.

"I'm fine," Lizzie repeated, lacing her hands together and putting them in her lap.

"I wouldn't mind," Will told her.

"Hmm?" She stared determinedly at her hands, willing her face to stop blushing.

"A foot massage. I wouldn't mind giving you one."

Her traitorous face ignored her commands and heated up again, worse than ever. "I'm fine," she said a third time.

"You should at least take your shoes off," Ana told her. "It's more comfortable. Plus, it'll make me feel less underdressed."

Glad for a suggestion that didn't involve Will, Lizzie obliged.

"Oh dear, what happened to your feet?" Ana asked as soon as Lizzie's shoes were off.

Lizzie looked down at her bare feet, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're missing a few toenails."

Upon further inspection, she realized that she was, indeed, missing three toenails. "It's from dancing so much."

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't even notice it anymore," Lizzie admitted.

"Wow," Ana breathed. "That's admirable."

"You should see her dance. _That's_ admirable," Will said, smiling with what looked like pride.

_Something is wrong with my face_, Lizzie decided as it heated up _again_.

"When can I see you dance?" Ana finally took her eyes away from Lizzie's feet. "Can I come to your next practice?"

"Will's exaggerating," Lizzie insisted. "He only caught the end of my practice with Mallory, so he only saw me do fun stuff. Most of my practicing is boring."

"So, I'll come at the end?" Ana's eyes were pleading.

"If you really want to," Lizzie conceded. "I'll be in the studio from nine to eleven tomorrow morning."

"Great. Will, are you going to return the favor and provide a distraction for me?"

"Do I have to wear low rise trousers and bare my stomach?"

Lizzie snorted at the image. "God, that'd be great."

"Lizzie wants to see your stomach," Ana teased.

"No!" Lizzie protested vehemently.

"I have a nice stomach," Will assured Lizzie with a smile that matched his sister's. "I have a six pack."

Ana snickered. "He _wishes_."

"I do not _wish_. I _have_."

"No, you don't. You eat too much."

"_You _eat too much," Will corrected.

"It's so weird that you're talking about your brother's stomach, Ana," Lizzie said, hoping to put attention from Will's stomach and onto Ana's weirdness.

"_You're_ the one that wants to see it," Ana shot back. "I'm just trying to tell you it's not worth seeing. I used to live with Will, and he'd walk around without a shirt every morning. Believe me, there is no six pack."

"You haven't lived with me for over a year," Will reminded her.

"Okay, fine," Ana replied. "Show Lizzie your stomach."

"Please don't," Lizzie said sharply, looking anywhere but at the siblings.

"She's afraid she'll be attracted to you despite your_ lack_ of six pack." Ana giggled. "God, Lizzie, you're as red as un homard."

"A what?" Will asked. Lizzie could feel their eyes on her face.

"A lobster," she mumbled, looking determinedly anywhere but him.

"Will likes it when you blush though," Ana added.

Not being able to help herself, she stole a glance at Will as inconspicuously as possible. He was blushing a little too.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Lizzie announced, standing up. "Where is it?"

"That door over there," Ana pointed to the door Lizzie remembered her coming out of earlier.

Lizzie nodded gratefully and all but ran into the bathroom. The face that stared back at her in the mirror was still red. She waited impatiently for it to return to normal before washing her hands and splashing water on her face. Lizzie stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes doing nothing but calming her racing heart and collecting her thoughts, before emerging.

Will had a book open in his lap and didn't look up until she settled back into the seat next to him on the other end of the couch, hoping he'd keep his distance. He gave her a lopsided smile. "Sorry about my sister."

Lizzie shrugged, not sure what to say to that. "Where is she?"

"She decided she needed to use the loo as well, so she went to her own room." Will closed his book and set it on the coffee table. "She'll probably come back with her outfit changed."

"You two seem to have a really good relationship."

He nodded. "We're quite close."

Lizzie smiled. This was a good, neutral subject. "It's sweet."

Will chuckled. "She likes you a lot, you know."

Not sure how to respond to that, Lizzie searched for another topic. "What were you reading?" It was a stupid question, since the book was sitting on the coffee table and Lizzie could see that it was a medical text, but that didn't matter. The point was to get the conversation away from her.

"Just studying," Will answered. "It's funny because, you know, you're in school, and you think as soon as you leave, you won't ever have to study again. Then you're an intern, and you have to study to prove that you belong there. Then you become a resident and you have to study or else you'll mess up and kill someone. I'm still wondering when all this studying will stop."

It wasn't something Lizzie could relate to. She'd been home schooled all her life, and couldn't recall studying much. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Will replied.

"What made you decide to be a doctor when you have all this?"

"All this?"

"The hotel," Lizzie clarified, gesturing at the beautiful room. "It's not like you _need_ the money."

"This business bores me." Will smiled at her. "I'm not at all passionate about it."

"What made you decide to be a doctor then?"

Will took a deep breath. "My mother-"

"Our mother," Ana interrupted as she walked back into the room with a grin. Her lounge pants were gone, and in their place were tailored dress pants. "He's very possessive," she told Lizzie.

Will rolled his eyes. "_Our _mother had cancer. She was in and out of hospitals for a long time. I distinctly recall spending my twelfth birthday by her hospital bedside. She suffered a lot. It was a long and torturous disease."

"Our dad had cancer too," Ana added. "His was different though. A different kind, but just as long and painful." Ana sighed. "Our mother had liver cancer, and our dad had lung cancer. What's unfair is that our mother wasn't a crazy drinker, and Dad wasn't a smoker."

"Cancer is rarely fair." Will took a sip of his wine. "It's a horrible disease."

"Thanks for that _shocking_ new piece of information, doctor." Ana said sarcastically to her brother before turning to Lizzie with a sad smile. "After our mum died, Will got all into science and stuff. Dad encouraged it because at least Will wasn't moping and crying anymore, but we were all surprised when Will announced he wanted to study medicine at university."

"What did your dad say?" Lizzie asked, wondering to what extent young Will _moped_ and _cried_.

"He was shocked, for sure," Ana replied just as Will was opening his mouth. "It was always assumed Will would take over the business for Mum."

"Wait, for your _mom_?"

"Yes, Pemberley is a Fitzwilliam business, not a _Darcy_ business. Our father married into it. He had his own money, of course. He was an accountant for the company when he met Mum," Will explained. "Rich is head of the business right now."

Ana added, "I sit in on as many meetings as I can, but I have classes and stuff. Rich keeps threatening to lock me out of business deals."

"So, Rich is an heir too?"

"Yes. His dad, our mum, and our aunt Catherine were heirs to the business. Now it's me, Will, Rich, and Anne – that's our other cousin – that are next in line."

"I abandoned my duties when I decided to study medicine."

"And Anne's dealing with her health problems so she doesn't do much either," Ana continued. "So it's mainly Rich and me."

"Mostly Rich and a few executives while Ana is still in school."

"Rich gets help from Uncle John too."

"Right," Will agreed. "Rich's father, our uncle, is still alive, but retired. He still gives advice though."

"Does your aunt do anything?" Lizzie's mood soured as she remembered the cold judgmental woman in Texas.

"Not really," Ana answered. "Mostly just tells us that we're running the business wrong, but offers no suggestions."

"Does that surprise you?" Will questioned with a knowing smile.

Lizzie smiled back. "No."

"Oh, that's right. You met her. Isn't she an absolute monster?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Ana peeked a glance at Will, anticipating a scold.

Her brother simply shrugged. "I didn't hear anything."

"You agree," Ana concluded. "You hated the way she was when…" She trailed off and coughed. "Anyway, we're off topic, and we didn't answer the question. Tell her why you got into medicine, Will."

Will shrugged. "My mother had cancer, and it made running a hotel seem like such an unimportant thing to do with my life. Cells and blood interested me while the hotel business did not."

Ana waved her hand dismissively at her brother. "He's being evasive. He became a doctor because he didn't want other kids to lose their parents."

Lizzie looked at Will for confirmation, but he was staring at something off to his left. She wasn't sure if it was the flush on his cheeks or the newly acquired information, but he looked softer now, kinder. The lines on his face weren't so harsh.

Feeling the need to ease the tension, Ana declared, "I'm a way better business person than Will anyway."

Lizzie laughed obligingly. When she looked at Will again, she noticed he seemed to be a little put out. Perhaps this subject was not a good one. "Sorry about your parents," she said seriously.

He looked surprised at her words, but again, before he could say anything, Ana responded, "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

Will still looked put out so Lizzie changed the subject. "So why did you choose to specialize in hearts?"

Will glanced at Ana, probably to see if she would answer the question like she had all the previous ones. When she didn't, he perked up a bit and replied, "I guess I chose to specialize in the heart because it's the one thing a human being needs to live."

"You think so?" Lizzie asked curiously. In her opinion, there were a lot of things human beings needed to live.

"Well, _scientifically_ speaking." He smiled, probably anticipating that from her. "The human body only needs a beating heart to be considered living. Limbs can be lost, organs can fail, the brain can even die…but as long as the heart is still beating, the human is considered alive. The heart's the most important part of the body."

Ana grinned. "It means nothing to him that the heart is what's needed to _love_."

"It _symbolizes_ love, Ana," Will corrected. "The heart pumps blood. It doesn't control love any more than the liver does."

"You sure do have a way with words, Will," Ana retorted sarcastically. "Forget medicine, you should write Hallmark cards."

Lizzie laughed. "She's got a point. Please don't write me any love letters." She didn't realize the implications of her words until too late. Will stared intently at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortably bare. Her face grew hot again, and she shifted in seat.

"Duly noted," Will murmured, not breaking eye contact, his expression completely unreadable.

"Oh, no." Ana groaned. Both Will and Lizzie turned to her to see Ana struggling to pick up her arms.

"Ana, what's wrong?" Will asked, concerned.

"Can't. Move." She was still struggling with her movements. "Tension. Too. Thick."

Lizzie couldn't help but chuckle when Will threw another pillow at her. "_You're _thick," he declared.

Ana laughed wildly. "I'm a_ riot_." She stood up, movements back to normal. "I'm going to go check the progress on the food. I'm bloody starving."

* * *

**Author's Note (part deux):** _Le Gavroche _is a wonderful French restaurant in London that my parents and I always go to when we're in town. If you're ever in London and you're in the mood for French food, I definitely recommend it.

If you read this far, you might as well review. It makes me so happy when you do. :]


	19. For Once In My Life, I'm Scared To Death

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Nineteen: For Once In My Life, I'm Scared To Death  
**

**---**

**November 5; 9:22PM**  
Ana had been the equilibrium in the room, and her departure ruined the balance. The air was now heavy with things unsaid.

"So how long will you be in London?" Will asked, an obvious attempt to ease the tension. He carefully pulled his legs up on the couch and turned so that his back was against the armrest and his front was facing her.

"My audition is the day after tomorrow, and then I leave the next afternoon." Lizzie mirrored his actions, being careful not to touch his legs with hers.

"I see. When do you find out if the company wants you?"

"They'll call me." Lizzie crossed her legs to decrease the chance that their feet might accidentally brush.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," Lizzie admitted. "I auditioned for Pittsburgh Ballet about a week ago, and that went well. Mary – that's my manager – says they're offering me a place there."

"Well, that's good. How many places have you auditioned for so far?"

"Only Boston and Pittsburgh. Those companies are my safety nets. If I get offers from anywhere else, I won't go there."

"So you've already done two auditions?"

"Yes. A few other companies called me, but I wanted to spend time getting ready for the auditions that really matter, rather than collecting safety nets."

"How did you choose which companies to audition for?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Mostly I chose them based on location and the style of ballet they do. I don't think I would have even auditioned for Boston or Pittsburgh, but they were the first to call me after I sent out my audition DVD, so I felt like I owed it to them for believing in me."

"What companies do you actually want?"

Lizzie lifted her hand to count off companies. "Royal Ballet, San Francisco, ABT, and maybe NYCB. I'd be happy with any of them, I think."

Will's forehead creased. "NYCB is your old company, right?"

"Yeah," Lizzie answered. "I'm still trying to decide if I should go back to them."

"You're bitter," he concluded softly.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I would," he agreed. The way he was looking at her made Lizzie feel like perhaps Will didn't just agree with her, but he_ understood_ her. "What is ABT?"

"American Ballet Theatre," she responded. "It's in New York."

"Ah. So which one is your top choice?"

"Honestly, I'll go where ever I can dance," Lizzie said. "But ABT would be ideal because I would like to stay in New York, if I'm going to stay on the east coast. ABT has a great reputation, and they're known for their classical repertoire, which would be a change from what I'm used to. San Francisco would be great too. I could be closer to my dad." Lizzie smiled sadly. "It'll be hard to leave New York though."

"And Royal Ballet?"

"It would be amazing to dance here, but they'd have to take me first." Lizzie looked around the room, imagining life in London. "It'll definitely be a challenging transition. I'll be going from Balanchine to classical, which I guess is what I'd be doing if I got into ABT. I guess it just feels like much more of a transition because I'd move across an ocean too. I'm always up for a challenge though. I'd like to have a chance to try something different."

He nodded, but Lizzie wondered if he knew what she was talking about.

"I sent three DVDs to France too," she admitted quietly.

"Do you have any auditions with them?"

"No." Lizzie stared at her hands, wondering why she had even told him that. No one knew the destinations of the DVDs except for Mallory and Mary, ensuring that no one knew which companies rejected her.

"Oh," Will said, the implications of her answer washing over him. "I see."

"Mallory doesn't care for France, so she's quite fine with me not auditioning for them. Plus, I have all these other auditions, and I don't think I'd actually _want_ to move to France and relearn all my French." Lizzie stopped, wondering if she should go on.

"It would have been nice for them to want you though," Will finished for her.

Her stomach fluttered. She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words that came out were not the ones she had intended. "Yes." She hesitantly raised her eyes to meet his. He looked to be struggling to find words with which to reply.

"I was wrong," he announced, his voice barely above a whisper.

She hadn't expected that. "About what?"

"Back in," he visibly swallowed. "Back in Texas. I was wrong when I said your career seemed shaky at best. I knew it was wrong to say back in September because it was rude and tactless of me. I now realize that it was also wrong because it could not be more untrue, Elizabeth."

Lizzie stared at him, shocked and speechless. His words washed over her, and her brain worked quickly to dissect and analyze their meaning. However, it was the warmth and earnestness in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

"France was wrong too. You are an amazing dancer, Elizabeth," he continued. "You leave me breathless, and I know that you will find success."

"Thank you," Lizzie whispered. Her eyes felt uncomfortably wet, so she looked away and blinked rapidly to chase the unshed ears away, not wanting him to know how much his words affected her.

Lizzie wasn't sure how long they sat like that, her pretending she wasn't teary and him pretending he didn't notice. Finally, Will said, "I've made it awkward again."

She let out a shaky laugh, still not looking at him. "Yes."

There was shifting on his end of the couch and she realized, with alarm, that he was moving closer to her. Lizzie sucked in a breath and held it. Both of them had their legs crossed under them Indian style, and now he was so close that their knees were touching. She felt his hand brush the side of her face as it moved some hair behind her ear.

"Won't you look at me, Elizabeth?" he murmured.

Still not breathing, she turned her head slightly towards him, but refused to look at him.

"I'm sorry for making you cry." His voice was deep and husky.

"I'm not crying," she whispered. Lizzie began chewing on her thumbnail nervously when he didn't take his hand away from her hair.

"Oh," he replied. "I'm making this more awkward for you."

"Yeah."

He took his hand away from her face, thank _god_, and she could finally breathe again. The relief was short lived, however, because he leaned even closer to her and used his hand to gently turn her face to his so that they were only inches apart. "It doesn't feel awkward to me."

The only time Lizzie could remember ever being this close to him was at Rosings when she'd shot him in the eye. It hadn't been like this then. It had been so much simpler then. He was just a guy that was a jerk, and she was just some girl that he'd been a jerk to.

Now, she knew she'd been wrong. Now, he was a guy whose actions and intentions she'd misunderstood. He was a guy that clearly loved his sister, a guy that had such a sad past, a guy that wanted to save people by cutting them open and sewing them back up. He was a guy that said such beautiful words of encouragement to her. He was a guy with thick, dark lashes that framed eyes of the most amazing shade of gray Lizzie had ever seen, eyes that evoked an onslaught of emotions inside of her and caused her heart to thump painfully fast inside her chest.

And Lizzie? She was a girl that realized that she _could_ fall for Will Darcy if she wasn't very, very careful.

God, it had been so much simpler at Rosings.

"Why is this awkward for you?" he asked.

Lizzie chewed on her nail briefly before answering, "Because of who we are."

"Who are we?"

"Well, I'm Elizabeth Bennet," she replied, gaining some of her footing because this was a questions he could actually answer. "You're William Darcy."

"So Elizabeth Bennet and William Darcy can't be friends?" His eyes were playful, teasing almost. It was a new sight for her because he was usually so serious.

"Is this what friends do?" she challenged, referring to their position and his _closeness_.

He blinked. Then his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Charles and I do this all the time."

Lizzie let out an unexpected guffaw. "Is that right?"

"All the time." Will grinned. "We sit around, talk, and let my sister embarrass us all the time."

"When you put it _that_ way, it sounds so simple."

"It is simple," he insisted. "I don't expect anything from you, Elizabeth. You don't have to feel awkward or uncomfortable."

"So we'll be friends?" She meant it to sound like a statement, but her voice cracked at the end.

"If you'd like," he said.

Lizzie nodded. "Okay."

"Okay." He grinned.

They sat there staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away, until Ana came in wheeling a cart of food.

"Guys, food. You can stare at each other later."

**November 6; 10:52AM**  
"So how are you and Will?" Ana asked, sitting on the floor with Lizzie as she stretched.

Lizzie smiled. Ana was nothing if not persistent. "The last time I saw him was with you."

The younger brunette rolled her eyes. "I know that, but when I came back with food, you guys seemed a lot less awkward."

That was true. After deciding to be friends, things had been sufficiently less awkward. Dinner had been a nice, relaxing event. The conversation had been light and easy since they stayed on pretty safe topics.

"We're friends," Lizzie said as she pulled a sweater over her head.

"That's what Will said." Ana looked disappointed. "I was hoping he was just not dishing that you guys had hot sex on the couch or something."

Lizzie felt her face heat up and forced her mind not to think of hot sex on the couch with Will.

Of course, Ana noticed the blushing. "Oh, my god! _Did_ you?"

"No!" Lizzie exclaimed. She began pulling her pants on so she'd have an excuse not to look at Ana.

"Are you sure?" Ana sing-songed.

"Yes," she answered firmly.

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I can't believe you can talk about your brother having sex like it's nothing," Lizzie muttered, ignoring her question. Without thinking, Lizzie added, "Besides, if we did have sex, it wouldn't have been very good since you were only gone a short while."

Ana laughed. "Oh, Elizabeth, you're my favorite person!"

Lizzie smiled. "If Will and I ever have 'hot couch sex' I promise you'll be the first to know."

"Okay!"

"Which will be never."

Ana smirked. "Sure."

"Seriously," Lizzie insisted. "We're friends. Friends don't have sex."

"Friends with benefits do," Ana countered.

"Well, Will and I are friends _without_ benefits." Lizzie pulled on her pants and gave Ana a stern look.

"For _now_."

Lizzie shook her head. "For_ever_."

"Why?" Ana extended the Y sound so her question sounded like a whine.

"Because," Lizzie racked her brain for a reason that would not only be true, but would also please Ana. "I'm not a very good girlfriend."

"That's stupid." Ana scoffed.

"Seriously," Lizzie said. "My last relationship failed because I was too into ballet. I don't…I don't have the capacity to love anyone more than ballet."

Ana studied her with an expression that was identical to her brother's. "That's not why you won't date him though."

Lizzie sighed. "There are a lot of reasons why I wouldn't date Will, Ana." Though, if she were honest, she couldn't think of many right now…not after seeing Will in such a different light.

The younger girl looked disappointed but seemed to realize that the subject should be dropped. "Are you heading back now?"

"Yeah." Lizzie smiled tentatively at her, hoping she wasn't too upset.

Ana smiled back easily. "I have to go pick something up for Will. So I'll leave first in case there are any photographers here."

"Okay." Lizzie began putting her Pointe shoes in her bag. "Hey, do you know where I could buy my sister a nice sweater? I promised I'd get her a nice one for some occasion she's attending soon."

"There's a small boutique just across the street. Try there." Ana replied. "If that doesn't have anything, I could give you some other places."

"That should be fine. I don't think she actually needs this sweater. She probably just asked me to get her one because she wants me to think of her while I'm here."

Ana laughed. "I understand. Sometimes I think that's what Will wants. He's so afraid I'll forget him."

Lizzie felt a strange bond with the girl, knowing they were both younger sisters that cared deeply for their older siblings. "So I'll see you at the hotel?"

Ana nodded and began walking to the exit. She stopped suddenly and turned around. "Will you join us for lunch? Around one?"

"Sure," Lizzie replied without thinking. "Just knock on my door."

"Okay." Ana turned the knob of the door and turned her head to look at Lizzie one last time. "Elizabeth."

"Yeah?"

Ana seemed to struggle with her words for a minute before finally shyly saying, "I think you should know that the main reason I want you and my brother to get together is purely selfish. I think you're an amazing dancer and a wonderful person, and even though I know it'd make Will really happy to be with you, it'd make_ me_ really happy to have you as a friend."

Lizzie could only stare at the younger girl, touched and speechless, as she pulled the door open and began to walk out.

**November 6; 11:22AM**  
Lizzie had only been in the store for about five minutes before she heard the sound of clicks and shouts outside. Surely that was not all for her? They hadn't even seen her walk into this store. Lizzie moved to the display window, being careful to stand behind a mannequin, to see what all the fuss was about. Her jaw literally dropped, and she felt like her breath had gotten stuck in her throat.

Caroline Bingley, looking more smug than Lizzie had ever seen her, was outside wearing a belted white, fur-trimmed coat with some black leather knee high boots. Her hair, which had been cut since Lizzie had seen her last, was now a short, fashionable bob. Caroline waved to photographers with one perfectly manicured hand, the other was wrapped around the upper arm of William Darcy.

Lizzie stared with a sick kind of morbid fascination as they paused for photos. Will's face conveyed his annoyance. His gray eyes blinked rapidly to counter all the flashes, his jaw was clenched, and his mouth was a hard line. Caroline talked animatedly with photographers while Will stood stiffly next to her.

"Miss?"

The female voice behind her surprised her so much that she jumped and accidentally bumped into the mannequin she'd been hiding behind. It swayed, but luckily didn't collapse.

Lizzie slowly turned around, face burning with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright, Miss," the salesgirl said with a kind smile. "Everyone's fascinated with the Darcys."

"Right," Lizzie mumbled.

"I'm so glad William is back in town. He's so good looking," the girl continued, looking behind Lizzie at the couple outside. "It seems he finally got with Caroline Bingley. They do make a brilliant couple."

"They're together?" Lizzie picked up a sweater she had no intention of buying and studied it with more concentration than necessary. She stared at the pale lavender color, feeling the soft fabric under her fingertips, but could think of nothing but the image of Will and Caroline.

"Looks like it," the girl replied, still looking out the window.

Unable to resist the urge, Lizzie finally turned her head to look. They were walking away so she turned back to her sweater, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in her chest.

"He's always so private about his life. I read somewhere that he hates public displays of affection too." The girl pushed a few strands of dark hair behind her ears and smiled at Lizzie. "Him walking around London with her on his arm must mean he's with her and wants us to know."

Lizzie, who could not think of a better explanation, nodded.

**November 6; 11:40AM**_  
It didn't matter_, Lizzie told herself firmly as she walked down the chilly streets of London. So what if he was with Caroline Bingley? What did she care? Except that last night, they – and she hated that she and Will were a _they_ – were friends. Didn't friends tell each other when who they were dating? Especially when the girl he was dating was someone like Caroline Bingley?

God, was that why Will wanted to be friends? So he wouldn't feel weird having her here while Caroline was here?

It didn't matter.

Except that it did. For whatever reason, it _did _matter. Because what kind of man just allows his sister to try to set him up with another girl if he had a girlfriend? What kind of man would have dinner with some other woman when he had a girlfriend? What kind of man said things like "You leave me breathless" to another woman when he had a girlfriend? What kind of man would make said woman feel –

_Feel what?_ A voice whispered.

_Nothing_, one side of her insisted.

_Everything_, the other argued.

Above all, _it didn't matter._

He was with Caroline Bingley, so none of it mattered.

They were friends. The only reason she was feeling…odd about him being with Caroline is because he didn't seem to like Caroline very much. She tried to remember all the times she'd been around Caroline and Will. He never once looked like he was having a good time with Caroline.

_Then again_, that voice began. _He never seemed like he was having a good time with you either. And he's in love with you._

Was.

Was, was, _was_. He _was_ in love with her.

He was with Caroline Bingley now.

And why wouldn't he be with Caroline Bingley? Sure, the woman had her share of faults – shallow, annoying, vapid – but Lizzie was quite certain Caroline had never accused Will of a myriad of stupid things and yelled at him when he professed his love to her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Had Will professed his love to Caroline?

_It didn't matter. _

What did she care?

It didn't matter.

**November 6; 2:22PM**  
Lizzie skipped out on lunch with the Darcys (and possibly Caroline). Instead, she laid on her bed and sullenly contemplated her reasons for skipping lunch.

When her stomach finally protested loudly enough, she got out of bed and went to find Mallory and Ed.

They didn't answer the door, so Lizzie was on her own for lunch. Deciding to explore London a bit, she grabbed her purse and coat from her room.

She waited patiently for the elevator, and when it opened, she was met with Will, Caroline, Ana, Charlie, Louisa, and a man she didn't recognize. She stared, shocked, thinking that this hotel was much too small. No, not just the hotel, the world. The world was much too small.

Ana got over her shock first. She put her hand out to keep the elevator open and used her other to nudge Charlie aside to make room.

Lizzie tried not to look at Will and Caroline, and instead ended up looking at their hands. Their hands that were not entwined. In fact, Caroline wasn't even touching Will, despite their proximity. Lizzie cleared her throat and said, "I'll just take the stairs."

She gave Ana an apologetic look, then turned on her heel. Lizzie took large steps toward the door that led to the stairs, forcing herself not to look back.

"Elizabeth."

Against her own will, she stopped. She heard his soft footsteps against the floor and then Will Darcy was in front of her.

"We missed you at lunch today." His voice sounded sincere.

"Did you?" she asked, wincing at the bitterness that laced hers. She had no right to be bitter.

"Yes," Will replied, looking confused. "Where were you?"

"I wasn't feeling well." That was not exactly a lie.

"Oh." He seemed concerned. "Are you feeling better?"

She shrugged, turning her head and staring at the intricate texture of the beige walls.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, reaching her hand out to touch the wall, moving her fingers along the cold surface. "Go back to your friends. I don't want to keep you."

"They'll be fine," he said. She could feel his eyes on her.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "You shouldn't keep Caroline waiting."

"What?" Lizzie thought she could practically _hear_ the scowl on his voice, but that may have just been the hopeful part of her.

"You heard me," she muttered, trying to move past him.

He blocked her. "Why would Caroline care if I keep her waiting?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes and finally looked up at him. "I don't know," she began sarcastically. "Because you two are dating?"

"_What_?" His confused frown looked so genuine, Lizzie wasn't sure what to make of it. "Where did you get that idea?"

Lizzie took a deep breath. "I _saw_ you."

"Oh." Understanding dawned on his face. "At the park?"

It was her turn to scowl. Had they been frolicking all over London? "No. Just outside of some store across the ballet studio."

"We were creating a distraction," Will explained. "Caroline, and her siblings got in last night. I was just leaving the lobby when Caroline caught me and asked if I wanted to accompany her on a walk. I thought that was a better distraction than I could really provide on my own, so I agreed."

"How nice of you." Lizzie studied her nails, resisting the urge to bite them. They already looked atrocious, especially compared to Caroline's perfectly manicured ones.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't." She tried to move past him again.

He wasn't having it. "You think I'd date Caroline?"

"Are you not?" she blurted out, blushing.

"No," he assured her, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. "I would never date her."

She inspected his face and could detect no dishonesty. "I wouldn't care if you did."

He held her by the shoulders. "I wouldn't though. You have nothing to worry about."

Lizzie made a frustrated noise. "I'm not worried."

His smile turned into a full grin. "Oh, okay. You seemed worried."

"Well, I'm not." She avoided his eyes and stared at his lips instead. Lizzie was almost positive she hadn't seen Will smile this much in one sitting.

"Good, because you have no reason to be." His voice was teasing.

Staring at his mouth was just as bad as his eyes. There was something lovely about the way his lips moved when he spoke. "Okay, then."

"Okay." He didn't let go of her.

She sighed and met his eyes briefly before settling for his left ear. "If you must know, I was just _curious _about you and Caroline because since _we_ are _friends_, I thought you would have told me who you were dating."

"I understand." His teasing tone remained. "But you can rest assured that I'm not dating Caroline."

"Good to know," Lizzie mumbled, annoyed at how truthful that statement actually was.

"So, will you join us for dinner?"

Lizzie swallowed. "I'm going to eat lunch right now."

"Dinner's not going to be until later."

"I know that." Did he think she was an idiot? She _felt_ like an idiot. "I was just saying…"

"Where are you eating lunch?"

Her stomach growled loudly. "I'm not sure. Somewhere close, I guess."

He frowned at her stomach. "Are you not a fan of hotel food?"

"I just thought I should explore London." _Fuck it_, she thought and began biting on her thumbnail, resolving to get rid of this nasty habit after London.

"I see. Well, I'll let you do that then." He let go of her shoulders.

Lizzie nodded gratefully, meeting his eyes finally. "Okay."

"You have to at least stop by my room later though. We'll all be there. You can catch up with Charlie."

The flash of guilt she saw in his usually unreadable eyes when he mentioned Charlie was what convinced her to say yes. His genuine smile made her stomach swoop and made her mouth glad she had said yes. Her brain scolded both of them.

He backed away and opened the door to the stairs for her. "You can take the elevator, if you want. I'm sure they're gone by now."

Lizzie winced. "Tell Ana sorry for me?"

Will shrugged. "She'll understand."

"Okay." Lizzie walked through the door and spared him one last glance. "Later."

He grabbed her arm, his fingers grazing the bare skin that her sleeve didn't cover, sending sparks through her body. "Just so you know." He waited until she was looking him in the eye before continuing. "You'll be the first to know when I start dating someone." Then he smiled as if he was enjoying some private joke.

**November 6; 4:00PM**  
It was Will Darcy's fault.

She was lost and confused, and it was all his fault.

Mallory and Ed would have a field day if they found out she'd gotten lost _again_. It's not like it was her fault this time though. If anything, it was Will Darcy's fault. She could hear Jane's voice in her head telling her to stop blaming others. Actually, it was starting to sound a lot like her own voice.

This time it _was_ his fault though.

Where was the awkward and aloof Will Darcy that Lizzie had gotten used to? Sure, he wasn't very much fun to be around, but he was _safe_.

This new Will Darcy, with his teasing voice and playful eyes and handsome grin, was anything but safe. This new Will Darcy, this _London_ Will Darcy, was not safe. He invaded her thoughts and took over her mind until there was nothing in there but him. No room for anything else but him.

Certainly not directions.

Which is why she'd gotten lost.

It was _his_ fault.

Lizzie checked the street sign to make sure it was the right one. A kind old man had written down directions for her. She was having a hard time following them because thoughts of _Will Darcy _kept distracting her.

Why did Will have to go and change for the better? Why did he have to have a nice sister and be a loving brother? Why did he have to show her this side of him? Why did he have to go suggesting they'd be friends?

Why did he have to make her feel so small and immature?

_Maybe because you are_.

Lizzie sighed and turned the corner.

Okay, so she _was_ being small and immature. She was working on it. She had a lot of growing up to do before she was worthy of someone like Will Darcy.

With a shocked gasp, Lizzie stopped so abruptly that the man behind her bumped into her.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry," she mumbled.

_Worthy_ of someone like Will Darcy?

God, this was all his fault.

**November 6; 9:30PM**  
It was comforting to know that, unlike Will, some people hadn't changed. Charlie was still nice, although he seemed a little less jolly than she remembered him, and Caroline was still…Caroline. Lizzie sat on the sofa with Will next to her, his arm behind her head, carefully _not_ touching her, watching Ana _kill_ the Bingley siblings at Super Smash Bros Brawl on the Nintendo Wii.

"Die, Charlie, die!" Ana said in a very vicious and scary voice as her character shot what looked like lasers at Charlie's adorable Pokémon character.

Charlie seemed to be trying rather hard to keep up with Ana's enthusiasm, but definitely fell short. In his defense, Lizzie was sure it was hard to be enthusiastic when someone almost a decade younger than you was kicking your digital ass.

Caroline was trying desperately to figure out the controls. Her character was in the left corner of the large television, doing various tricks.

Finally, Charlie's last life was taken when Ana shot him off the ship they were playing on. Charlie got up from the floor and sat down on Lizzie's other side as Ana turned her attention to Caroline.

"So, Lizzie, how is your family?" Charlie asked, face anxious.

Lizzie wondered how long he'd wanted to ask that. "They're fine," she answered slowly, wondering how much she should reveal. His disappointed look told her that wasn't the answer he was looking for, so she elaborated. "Jane's been pretty good."

Pain flashed across Charlie's face, but he nodded and smiled. It was more of just a baring of teeth. "That's good."

Lizzie nodded too. "Are you coming back to New York any time soon?"

"I'm not sure yet," Charlie admitted. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't.

"How's filming?"

"It's over." Charlie smiled, a bit more real this time. "It was a lot of fun. Took my mind off of…things. How's your dancing? Will says you have an audition tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She snuck a glance at Will, who quickly looked away from her when he noticed. "With Royal Ballet."

"That's really great, Lizzie," Charlie told her. "I'm really happy for you."

Lizzie smiled, remembering how much she liked Charlie. "Thanks."

"Yes!" Ana yelled, throwing both of her fists in the air. "You all lose!"

Caroline sighed. "I've never played before."

Ana ignored her. "Lizzie, do you want to play me again?"

Lizzie laughed. "No, thanks. I had enough a few minutes ago."

Will frowned. "Ana, do you do _any_ studying?"

"Of course I do," Ana said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "Don't be jealous that I can do well in school and beat you at video games, Will." Ana looked around the room. "Where's Louisa and Jeff? Do you think they'll want to play me?"

Caroline snorted. "They're too busy playing with _each other_."

"Who's Jeff?" Lizzie asked curiously.

"Louisa's boyfriend," Charlie answered.

"Jeff Hurst. She met him on the internet a long time ago." Caroline wrinkled her nose in distaste. "She talked about him last winter, remember? When we were all snowed in?"

"That's not that uncommon these days," Charlie insisted.

"It's still weird," Caroline said. Then she turned her eyes to Lizzie. "So you think you'll get into Royal Ballet?"

"I hope so." Lizzie struggled to keep her voice casual.

"They only take the best though. Do you remember that one principal at NYCB that auditioned with Royal Ballet and they only took her as a soloist or corps dancer?"

"Alexandra Ansanelli," Lizzie said softly.

"Yeah." Caroline nodded. "She wasn't even injured when she left NYCB."

Lizzie felt her face heat up, but before she could even think of anything to say, Will told Caroline, "You wouldn't even know Lizzie had been injured if you watch her dance."

Caroline's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly. "I'm just saying that-"

"Well, we'd all appreciate it if you just didn't say anything at all," Will cut her off.

Lizzie looked at him and saw his jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard.

The room was shocked into silence. Without another word, Caroline stood up and left the room.

Will sighed as soon as the door shut behind her. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

Charlie laughed. "Are you joking? That was great!"

Ana nodded. "It was! Way to go, Will!"

Lizzie put a tentative hand on his knee and met his eyes, which had softened considerably. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The smile he gave her made her heartbeat quicken dangerously.

* * *

**Author's Note:** OMG, you guys are so amazing. I know I must say this every time, but seriously guys, every time I think, "Wow, the reviewers can't be any more amazing," you go and prove me wrong. A few of you guys had questions. Grace, yes, I suppose lounge pants is an American term. They're just pants you'd wear around the house...like pajama bottoms, kind of. Joggers might be a close enough word. Lily222, I can't really tell you how long this story will be because I'm not quite sure. My original outline had twenty-four chapters, but because I tend to split chapters up, add scenes, remove scenes, etc...I'm not sure. I redid my outline recently, and it comes to about thirty chapters now. It might end up being more, but less than thirty-five chapters for sure.

Thanks to Lyndell for betaing, and you guys for reviewing and wishing me luck on my finals. I ended up getting A's in both my classes. The next session starts tomorrow, but I also get a two week vacation from work, so hopefully that equals more writing time.

You know I love it when you review. ;]


	20. Close Your Eyes, Clear Your Heart

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty: Close Your Eyes, Clear Your Heart**

**---**

**November 6; 10:24PM**  
"I should get going," Charlie said, looking at his watch. "Jetlag is killing me."

Will stood up to lead his friend to the door, wondering if now would be a good time to tell Charlie about his interference with Jane. However, as soon as Will followed him out into the hallway and shut the door behind him, Charlie spoke.

"When did you and Lizzie become friends?"

Will wondered if it should bother him that he was the only one that called her Elizabeth. It was much too late to switch to Lizzie now. "Um, yesterday," he answered honestly.

Charlie's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yes," Will replied.

"Did_ she_ agree to being friends?" His friend had a teasing grin on his face.

"Yes." Sort of.

"Huh," Charlie looked thoughtful. "Interesting."

Why were they talking about Elizabeth? They were supposed to be talking about Charlie and Jane. "Listen, Charlie."

"You're_ just_ friends?"

This was getting annoying. "Yes. _Just _friends."

"Really?"

Will rolled his eyes. This was almost the exact conversation he'd had with Ana. "Yes."

"That's why you defended her earlier?"

"No," Will lied. "I defended her because Caroline was annoying me."

"And because you like Lizzie."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit, he realized, that he hadn't been doing much of since he'd been on vacation. "Okay, fine. And because I like Lizzie."

"I knew it!" Charlie exclaimed with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah. I thought you were jetlagged?"

Charlie chuckled. "I'm making you uncomfortable. I get it. Fine, Will. I'll leave so you can spend quality time with Lizzie."

"It's not like that," Will protested. "Ana's here."

This made Charlie laugh again. "Ana probably wants you to get with Lizzie more than anyone else."

"You're such a tosser, Charlie."

His friend shook his head. "Why are you wasting your time out here anyway? You should be wooing Lizzie."

"Would you stop that? It's not like that."

"Because you're a coward." Charlie's tone was playful, and Will knew his friend was only joking, but Will couldn't help feel like the words held more truth than he liked. _If only you knew_.

Will sighed. "I'll try fixing that."

Charlie nodded. "You do that. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and began to walk towards to elevator.

Will opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was selfish, but he wasn't ready to tell Charlie about Jane because he knew that would mean spending more time with Charlie…and less with Elizabeth. He had a whole lifetime with Charlie to tell him, but he didn't have forever to convince Elizabeth that he was a different man. Also, if Charlie was going to do something, like, say, punch him, Will would prefer it if it was after Elizabeth was gone.

He felt like an ass as he watched Charlie leave without saying anything.

When he got back into the room, Ana and Elizabeth were nowhere to be found. There was water running in the bathroom, so Will figured that accounted for one of them. Then, Ana's distinctive chortling rang out, followed by a loud thump on the wall.

Worried, Will knocked on the bathroom door. "Ana? Are you alright?"

There was more shrieking laughter before Ana called out, "I'm fine, Will!"

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"I'm in here," Elizabeth's voice replied from the other side of the door. "Ana! Stop!"

Will turned the doorknob, but it was locked. "What are you doing in there?"

"Um, nothing, Will!" Ana answered.

He heard some indistinguishable noises and then something metallic hitting the floor.

"Hey, Will?" Ana called after a lot of giggling.

"Yeah?" He leaned against the door, wondering what could be going on in his bathroom.

"Do you have anymore shaving cream?" Someone laughed. He wasn't sure if it was his sister or Elizabeth because it sounded muffled.

"In my suitcase. Why?"

"No reason." Ana's voice sounded closer now. He heard the door unlock, and his sister cracked it open. "Can you get me some?"

"Ana, what the hell are you doing?" He tried to peer behind her for some sign of Elizabeth, but had no luck so he focused on Ana's appearance, or what he could see anyway. Her shirt had wet spots on it, and her hair looked a bit wet in some places as well. She had what he assumed was shaving cream foam on the right side of her head, just above her ear.

"Just teaching Elizabeth a lesson." Ana smiled mischievously.

Will saw a hand holding a cup over his sister's head, and he realized too late what was about to happen. Before he could step back, the hand turned the cup upside down and poured water over Ana's head.

"Lizzie!" Ana shrieked. "My back was turned!"

Elizabeth's only response was to laugh wildly.

Before Will could do anything, Ana shut the door in his face. He heard more laughing behind the door. He stood there, wondering what the hell he missed.

Cautiously, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. First, he saw his sister at the sink, filling the cup up with water. His gaze moved across the room to see Elizabeth climbing into the bathtub. His eyes widened, his throat closed, and he stood rooted to his spot as he took in her appearance. Her dress was soaked and clinging to her body, and she had bits of shaving cream in her hair and on her face. Her left stocking was pulled down to her ankles, and the other one was about mid-calf.

"Didn't you learn your lesson last time you were in the tub?" Ana asked her teasingly.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Ana," she warned.

"You got me when my back was turned!" Ana seemed to finally notice Will's presence. "Did you get the shaving cream?"

"Um, no. I'm actually still waiting for an explanation."

The devious smile on Ana's face worried him. He took a step back. His sister's eyes glittered impishly as she threw the water in the cup over him, soaking his face and neck.

Will stared disbelievingly as she seemed to struggle between her desire to snicker and her sisterly duty to feel guilty. Elizabeth stood in the bathtub comically with both hands slapped over her mouth in an attempt to hide her amusement.

Without a word, he exited the bathroom and walked to where his suitcase was. Ana followed him out, wringing her hands. "Sorry, Will. It was just a joke. You're not mad at me, are you?"

His sister didn't notice what he'd taken out of his suitcase until he began shaking the can of shaving cream.

"Will! It was a joke!" Her eyes were on the travel size can as she backed away from him.

Ana broke into a run to the bathroom and tried to close the door before he reached it, but she wasn't fast enough. Will used his weight to push the door open, and Ana quickly moved to the far end of the bathroom – in the bathtub where Elizabeth was still standing. He saw Elizabeth's eyes widen when she realized what was in his hand as he approached the two.

Elizabeth began to step out of the tub, but Ana clung to her, trying to hide behind her.

"I'm not saving you, Ana," Elizabeth informed her with a grin.

"Please," Ana begged Elizabeth.

Pressing the button on the can, Will released a liberal amount of shaving cream into his hand.

"Will," she whined. "I'm sorry!"

"Okay, Ana," He smiled at her and used his hand to pat her on the head, making sure to get all of the shaving cream in her hair. "I forgive you."

Ana tried to grab the shaving cream can out of his hand but he quickly held it out of her reach. Suddenly, Elizabeth moved out of the tub and turned the shower on, effectively sousing his sister.

"No fair! Two against one!" Ana struggled to move out of the tub as Will poured more shaving cream into his hand and threw it at her.

Finally, Ana successfully got out of the tub, her long hair dripping and her clothing drenched, and ran out of the bathroom. Will and Elizabeth ran after her, but her head start allowed her to escape the room completely. They watched her run down the hall through the open door.

After closing the door, Elizabeth grinned at him. "You're such a mean brother."

"She deserved it!" Will protested, grinning as well.

"Yeah, I guess she did." She caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall and grimaced. "I look an absolute fright."

Will wondered if she was aware that both her stockings were around her ankles and her scar was clearly visible. "I think you look quite fetching," he said without thinking.

She gave him an incredulous look before moving closer to him and taking the can of shaving cream from his hands. Her proximity made it hard for him to think clearly, and he simply stood there as she put shaving cream on his face and hair.

"Not even going to fight back?" she teased.

Will used his hand to wipe off some of the cream off his face and throw at her. "How's this?"

With an unrestrained laugh, Elizabeth moved out of the way. "Not good enough."

He chased her, but she was ready for him with more shaving cream. Will slapped her hand away, and she ended up getting shaving cream on her face, making him guffaw unexpectedly.

Not letting that bother her, Elizabeth simply began pouring more shaving cream. Will grabbed the can out of her hand while she was still pouring and ran away.

"Give me back the shaving cream!" She sped after him, chasing him into a corner in the kitchen area.

Will tried to pour more into his hand, but only got a small amount. He realized it was empty. Damn these travel size toiletries.

Elizabeth realized his problem and laughed again. "Say you're sorry, and I'll go easy."

He glanced at the shaving cream in her hand and shook his head. "Never."

"Fine. Have it your way." She divided the shaving cream between both her hands and closed in on him.

He didn't stand still this time. Will tried to shake his head and push her away, but it was counterproductive. She managed to get shaving cream everywhere on his face, even up his nose. Finally, when it was all over his face and hair, Elizabeth was satisfied.

He wiped some of the residue off his face and smeared it on hers.

"Truce!" she cried, pulling away from his hands and throwing hers up in defeat.

He chuckled and took his hands away. "Okay, truce. I'll get you some towels."

"They're all wet," Elizabeth informed him, trying to clean her face.

"I should have guessed," Will replied, watching her. "How did this even start?"

"Ana accidentally spilled water on herself, and I laughed. She went into the bathroom pretending to dry her shirt, but called me in to 'help' her. When I came in, she poured a cup on water on my head. Then she got me into the bathtub somehow and turned on the water. I actually have no idea how the shaving cream came into play."

Will laughed. "That's the most ridiculous story I've ever heard."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah."

He tried not to notice how bright and playful her eyes were, how the flush on her cheeks made her look even more captivating than usual, how close she was.

**November 6; 11:05PM**  
"I didn't know you could be like that," Lizzie told him softly after a few moments of silence.

Will's intense gray eyes on her made her stomach jump. "Like what?"

Lizzie shrugged and tried to wipe the chunk of shaving cream off her eyebrow. It was threatening to get in her eyes. It didn't help that her hand was also covered shaving cream, so she got it in her eye anyway. She closed her eyes and waited for the burn to stop. She heard and felt some movement from Will, and then felt soft cloth on her face. When she finally opened her eyes, Will Darcy was shirtless. It took her a minute to realize that he'd taken off his shirt because it was the only semi-clean thing he had…and he was using it to wipe the shaving cream off her face.

"Thanks," she whispered. The playful air of the room had evaporated, leaving in its place tension that had ballooned to momentous proportions.

It was his turn to shrug. He didn't put his shirt back on, and instead used it to clean his own face.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the water they'd left running in the bathroom and their breathing. Then, "Like what?"

"Hmm?" Lizzie asked, trying not to stare at his stomach muscles that did, indeed, form a six-pack.

Will dropped the shirt on the ground. "You didn't know I could be like what?"

"Oh." Lizzie frowned, struggling to remember where she'd been going with that thought. "Just so carefree and ridiculous and fun."

The left side of his lips curved into a half smile. "You didn't think I could be fun?"

"Not like this." She bit her lip. "Sorry."

He moved closer to her. God, he was so _close_ to her. Their noses almost touched. "I never really gave you any reason to think I could be." The other side of his lips curved to form a full smile. "_I_ honestly didn't know I could be. You make me this way."

He was doing things to her. Lizzie felt his hand on her hip and shivered. Instinctively, she moved her body closer to his. This encouraged him, and he slid his hand on her hip to her back, pulling her so that her clothed stomach touched his bare one. The rate her heart was beating could _not_ be good. Not sure what to do with her hands, Lizzie rested them on his chest hesitantly.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, his arm tightening around her. His other arm moved to her hair.

Lizzie touched her nose to his and closed her eyes. "I love the way you say my name," she admitted quietly. He was invading her senses. She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his hand thread through her tangled hair, felt his heart racing under the hand she'd put between them.

"Elizabeth," he said again, this time louder, his voice a smooth, velvety texture. He rubbed his nose with hers. "Elizab-"

Without thinking, Lizzie touched her lips to his. When he didn't respond, Lizzie felt mortification take over her body. She tried to pull away, but his arms held her to him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. She could barely understand him because his lips were against hers now, and her mind was so foggy. "You just surprised me, that's all." Then he was kissing her in a way that made her soul come _alive_.

His lips were soft and warm as they slowly explored hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him tighten his arms around her waist. Lizzie knew her feet were on the ground and that she wasn't on stage or in a ballet studio, so she couldn't explain the feeling in her stomach that told her she was _dancing_. She felt like she was soaring and flying and _happy_. These were feelings she was used to associating with dancing, so it didn't make sense that she could feel these things when her feet were firmly planted to the ground and her body was being held almost immobile in Will Darcy's arms.

**November 6; 11:11PM**  
When Will Darcy's lips touched Elizabeth Bennet's, he knew he'd never try to kiss any other woman again. He wasn't exactly sure how it came to this, but he couldn't stop it now. She wasn't pushing him away or yelling at him, so maybe she wanted as much as he did. He could taste shaving cream on her lips and had to smile because it was not how he imagined their first kiss, but it felt _right_. Feeling much bolder than he ever had with her, he maneuvered them so that she was sitting on the countertop with her legs loosely wrapped around his waist

Will felt feverish and dizzy. He tried to memorize this. He wanted to keep this moment forever, brand it into his mind, lock it away in his heart. He'd burn this into memory there, in his heart, where all four chambers were filled with _he_r. His heart and his mind were filled with nothing but her, and he wanted nothing more than this.

Elizabeth didn't pull away when his left hand slid from her back to her bare thigh. He should have known that the moment his hand moved from her thigh and touched her scar that she would pull back and move her leg away from him. He gently pulled her leg back, but kept his hand on her thigh to keep her calm.

Slowly, he allowed his fingers to trail to her scar, brushing it lightly. Her breathing became more erratic and she winced, but didn't pull her leg back. He stopped the kiss to look at her and decided that he'd never seen a more beautiful sight than Elizabeth Bennet, covered in shaving cream, bathed in artificial lighting. Her face was flushed, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were dazzling.

"I think you are perfect," Will declared fervently, fingers tracing the scar, before claiming her lips in another hopelessly desperate kiss.

**November 6; 11:20PM**  
With her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist, and her mind wrapped around the fact that Will Darcy was_ kissing_ her, it was easy for Lizzie to forget everything. She forgot who she was, who he was, why this was probably not a good idea…everything. All she knew was how it felt to be close to him. Every cell in her body was on fire, her stomach was fluttering uncontrollably, and she couldn't think about anything but how good it felt to have him this close.

Their kiss had moved from a slow exploration of mouths to a desperate devouring of each other. Lizzie had to remind herself to breathe, especially when his hands moved from her hair to cup her cheek.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice asked her what the hell she thought she was doing and screamed for her to stop.

Slowly, Lizzie regained her control from wherever it had been hiding and tore her lips away.

Will, surprisingly, didn't protest. He simply rested his forehead against hers and _looked_ at her. There was pink tinge on his cheeks and his breathing was uneven and ragged.

She sat there, still in his arms, feeling her lips tingle while her entire body hummed. "I have to go," Lizzie whispered.

"Okay," Will replied quietly.

"I have an audition tomorrow." She didn't know why she felt the need to explain, especially when that wasn't the whole problem.

"I know." He didn't remove his arms from around her though.

Then again, her arms were still around his neck, she realized. "I have to go," she repeated.

"I'll walk you," he offered.

Lizzie thought about saying no, but couldn't. So she nodded mutely and removed her arms from around his neck.

He let go of her and backed away from the counter to give her room to move. He found his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head before opening the door for her with a hesitant smile.

The walk to her room was silent and cold, but that was because her clothes were wet and she and Will weren't sharing body heat anymore. Lizzie stood at her door, fumbling with her keycard.

Will took the card from her shaking hands and opened her door with his steady ones.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"You're welcome," he replied, shooting her a charming smile.

Lizzie held the doorknob, leaned her back against the door, and looked up at him. "Good night."

Will studied her carefully before nodding. "Do I, um, wish you good luck? Or is that bad luck like with actors?"

She smiled despite herself. "It is bad luck."

"So, break a leg?"

"You think that's a good idea?" Lizzie teased.

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh! Sorry."

"You say Merde."

Will's face twisted in confusion. "Ana says that a lot. Doesn't it mean crap or something? I know she doesn't use it for good luck."

Lizzie grinned. "Yeah. It does mean shit or crap in French. I don't even know where it started, but that's what you say to wish a dancer good luck."

"Okay, well, _shit_."

"Was that you wishing me good luck or you cursing?" Lizzie laughed.

"Both." He pushed a strand of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Merde, Elizabeth."

"Thanks." She tried to ignore the way her heart seemed to soar when her name fell from his lips.

"I know you'll do well," Will added.

Lizzie's heart clenched painfully. "You don't know that."

His fingers played with the ends of her hair. "I don't, but I'm hoping you will."

"Thank you," Lizzie told him honestly. "It means a lot to me."

"Sleep well, Elizabeth." He kissed her lips swiftly, and without waiting for a response, turned and walked away.

Lizzie did not sleep well that night. Her thoughts and dreams were plagued with Will Darcy and ballet auditions. Every time she thought she would fall, Will caught her.

**November 7; 8:44AM**  
With her hair carefully pulled back in a tight bun and her nerves going crazy, Lizzie grabbed her bag and walked out of the room the director had given her to get dressed in. The hallway was relatively empty and the designated studio for class was only a few steps away, so Lizzie didn't have to suffer through many stares.

Nobody looked up when she entered the studio except the director and a few others. They nodded to her, and she smiled back politely before finding a corner to stretch. The other dancers were warming up and talking quietly, but when Lizzie got close enough to be recognized, they stopped. A new kind of whispering commenced.

"Is that Elizabeth Bennet?" one dancer asked her friend quietly, but not so quietly that Lizzie couldn't hear.

"No way. She's retired, isn't she?" the friend whispered back.

Lizzie ignored them and went into a plié.

"She didn't retire. She was _fired_. Remember? She couldn't dance anymore because of some accident."

She'd never get used to this, Lizzie decided. It had happened in Boston and Pittsburgh, but it still stung.

"Oh, that's right. Her leg was damaged."

"It looks fine to me."

"You can't _see_ anything through her tights."

More dancers were filing into the studio and the whispering was quickly turning into excited chatter centering on the unfamiliar dancer in their class.

Lizzie stood out like a sore thumb. Most of the dancers were wearing very casual clothes. It was just a company class for them, after all. For her, it was an audition. Her attire consisted of a black leotard and pink tights, an industry standard. She thought about wearing her leg warmers, and had even fought with Mallory about it, but in the end, they decided it would look like she was trying to hide something.

Promptly at nine, the ballet mistress called class to order. The dancers moved to the barre, and Lizzie quickly secured a spot in the front of the center barre so that the directors would see her, since she knew that was why they were here observing the class. The dancer whose spot she had probably taken looked at her curiously and opened her mouth to say something, but the ballet mistress cleared her throat and said, "Gemma, why don't you stand here today?"

The girl looked affronted, but did as she was told. Lizzie guessed that she wanted to use this opportunity to impress the director. She remembered being that way.

Barre exercises had always bored Lizzie. She had taken them for granted during her time at NYCB, but now, she had to focus. Every movement was performed deliberately and thoughtfully, being especially careful to mind her technique the entire time. It wasn't just the director and his people watching her. The other dancers were watching her too, but Lizzie ignored them and just focused on her feet. Like always, ballet made everything else disappear.

They warmed up their entire bodies, from their feet all the way to their heads. Then, the barres were taken away, and the dancers went to change into their Pointe shoes.

Without the piano to fill her ears and ballet movements to fill her mind, Lizzie was once again aware of the eyes on her. As she adjusted the toe pads, and then put on her Pointe shoe, she bitterly wondered if they'd ever seen someone put on a damn Pointe shoe. Lizzie concentrated on wrapping the ribbons around her ankle and tried to ignore the stares.

"Are you sure she was injured? She seemed fine to me," someone whispered.

"I don't even see a scar on her leg," another person added.

Lizzie's hand instinctively moved over her right calf protectively. The touch brought back memories of the previous night when Will Darcy had kissed her and told her she was perfect.

Her face heated up, and Lizzie tried to banish him from her thoughts for now.

He wouldn't leave.

During the Adagio, he was there. He was in her world of music and movement. Her steps became stained with his words. He occupied everything.

She did the jumps with the class to further warm up the muscles, seeing nothing but his face so close to hers. Lizzie could almost feel his nose touching hers.

She felt his hands in her hair, as she watched the ballet mistress demonstrate the short combination the dancers would have to perform.

It was a simple combination.

Petit allegro here, glissade there, pirouette at the end.

Lizzie performed it without trouble. She rose from fifth position and balanced on one foot on pointe smoothly and held her leg in relevé level for her pirouette.

_You didn't think I could be fun,_ his smooth voice told her, causing butterflies to come alive in her stomach.

It made her lose the spot she was focusing, but luckily didn't affect her balance too much.

_You look quite fetching_.

She fought to keep the smile off her face.

It went on like that throughout class. Her mind struggled to control her body because her heart was too dazed. As the movements became more difficult, so did banishing Will Darcy from her mind. It was a strange sort of tug of war, because she didn't want him gone. She _wanted_ to remember their night, but she also needed to concentrate on her dancing.

It was difficult to separate him from the dancing because both evoked the same emotions from her.

_How did this even start? _She wondered.

They continued to do different combinations, performing in small groups. The final combination included five continuous fouetté en tournant near the end.

Lizzie stood on flat foot and in plié as her right leg extended into fourth position en l'air in front then whipped around to the side as her right foot was pulled in behind her left knee, creating the force to spin as she executed a relevé, rising onto pointe.

She kept her eyes on a single spot on the wall as she performed the fouettés continuously.

_I think you are perfect._

It happened on her third fouetté. His voice in her head made her heart skip a beat, and her body lost its center. Her eyes failed to find the spot on the wall they'd been focused on and her timing was off rhythm now. Lizzie wasn't sure what happened next. One minute she was spinning, the next she had to throw her arms out to catch herself before she landed face first on the floor.

This wasn't just any floor though.

This was the floor of one of the most famous ballet companies in the world. She messed up a fouetté and fell in her audition in front of Royal Ballet's directors and dancers. Elizabeth Bennet, former principal dancer of NYCB and generally well-respected prima ballerina, _fell_.

_You make me this way. _

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:** Okayyyyy. Lots of people to thank for this chapter. Starting, of course, with everyone who reviewed (especially Diamond and Stars, who took the time out to read the entire story in one sitting and leave reviews for almost every chapter). Your kind words help my muse so much.

Also, thank you to keiraliz and Rabid Ballet Freak who looked over the ballet part of this chapter to make sure it was as accurate as possible.

Finally, thanks to Lyndell, my wonderful beta who is sick with Swine Flu but still managed to get this to me quickly.

The line "Her steps became stained with his words. He occupied everything" was inspired by Pablo Neruda's beautiful poem "So That You Will Hear Me"

I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's currently 1:18AM and I have to be up at 8:30AM to read (literally) 500 pages of business law so I can brief a bunch of cases for my professor tomorrow (school on a Saturday, YUCK). So yeah, I stayed up and worked on getting this out for you guys so you wouldn't have to wait any longer.

Please, please, _please_ review!


	21. Savor The Sorrow To Soften The Pain

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Savor The Sorrow To Soften The Pain  
**

**---**

**November 7; 12:23PM**  
Lizzie woke up suddenly with a gasp. It was a dream. It had just been one of those dreams she'd had involving an audition and Will. That's all. Everything was fine. She hadn't fucked up her audition. It was only a dream.

_It had been a dream_, she told herself with relief as she sat up and looked around her hotel room with sleepy eyes. The only sounds she could hear were the pitter-pattering of rain against the glass window and the cogs in her head turning. It had been such a realistic dream. She could still feel the pain in her hands from when they stopped her from falling, could still hear the director politely thanking her for her time, could still smell the sweat and failure that clung to her body as she left.

Lizzie ran a hand through her hair and found that, instead of the loose mess she expected, her fingers touched a few hard bobby pins before stopping at the bun on top of her head. It was still encased in its bun-net and hard from the copious amounts of hairspray she'd used.

Her head whipped around to look at the clock. It was late, nearly half past noon. That could only mean one of two things: either she had slept through her entire audition with Royal Ballet or it hadn't been a dream and she had _actually_ fallen during her audition.

She swallowed as she contemplated which would be worse.

In the end, it didn't matter. The point was that she had royally fucked up. No pun intended.

Her breathing became uneven. There wasn't enough air in the room. Her lungs weren't working right. This couldn't be happening. Lizzie put her face in her hands and swallowed a sob.

She would not cry. _She would not cry._

Crying would cement this feeling of absolute despair that was threatening to consume her.

_No_, she insisted. She had more auditions and already had two offers. It was not the end of the world. It was _not _the end. This would not break her.

Lizzie forced herself to get up, take a shower, and sort out the rest later.

As the hot water washed away the filth Lizzie was sure was all over her body, she also felt other things slipping away. Her chance to dance in London, her reputation, her confidence…

Once word got out – and it _would _get out, if not from the directors, then from the dancers for sure – her reputation would be ruined. Forget dancing in England, it'd be amazing if she'd be able to dance _anywhere_. She _fell_. It wasn't a misstep or a minor choreography complication. She fell during a simple fouetté. Most companies expected their dancers to be able to dance thirty-two continuous fouettés en tournant, and she hadn't even been able to do five! What business did she have wasting their time?

She had focused so much on her injury, believing that it would be her demise. The problem would be other people's reactions to it. People. People and their doubts. She'd been so focused on placing blame on others. They wouldn't see her, they wouldn't understand her, they wouldn't accept her.

The problem wasn't them. It was _her_.

If she had just danced with her heart and trusted her feet, instead of focusing so much on everything else, it would have been fine.

But she _had_ danced with her heart.

The problem was her heart didn't belong to ballet anymore, not completely anyway. Somehow, Will Darcy snuck in, claimed a piece of her heart, and tore it away from ballet. He didn't seem to be giving it up any time soon either.

Will.

It was the first time she allowed herself to think of him since that disaster of an audition.

She searched deep inside herself for feelings of blame and resentment for him, but came up empty. All she felt was anger at herself.

She couldn't exactly fault him for being charming and kind, could she? She couldn't complain that he was a good kisser. She couldn't blame him for her own mistakes.

It was failure on her part alone. _She_ messed up. _She_ lost focus. _She_ fell.

This could be easily fixed, she decided.

She liked Will. He obviously still liked her. You don't kiss someone you don't like, right?

However, _being _with Will – _kissing_ him – wasn't an option anymore. She couldn't afford any more distractions, any more memories pulling at her heart strings, any more falling.

When all the dirt, anger, and self-pity were washed away, Lizzie stepped out of the shower with a renewed sense of determination. Royal Ballet was a long shot now – a very long shot, but that didn't mean she couldn't get into ABT or San Francisco. Her heart was in pieces, but it wasn't _broken_. All she had to do was pick up the pieces she had and put herself back together. Then she could immerse herself into ballet completely.

If she didn't do it soon, her heart would be in danger of actually being broken. Sure, Will seemed great now, with his tender words and soft touches, but in the end, he was just like every other man. They all thought they could handle ballet dancers as girlfriends or spouses or what have you. They thought they were okay with only having a part of her, but in the end, it was never enough for them. They didn't understand that she _couldn't_ give her entire heart up because it wasn't hers to give. It already belonged to ballet and performing. It wasn't like she hadn't _tried _with Andrew. All that resulted in was pain and distraction, two things Lizzie did _not_ need right now.

If anything, it was even worse with Will because when he kissed her she felt…dazed. He made her forget where she was, what she was doing, and made her think she was _dancing_. It couldn't be good to have these feelings so intertwined, could it? Eventually, the pieces that belonged to Will would be so connected and interwoven with the pieces that belonged to ballet that she'd have to rip her heart to bloody bits just to get him out of there. Once she did that, who knew how much of it would be left intact for ballet?

As she wrapped a towel around her body, Lizzie contemplated the best way to tell him.

He might – no, he _would_ – be upset at first, but there was nothing for it. It had to be done.

Her phone was ringing when she stepped out of the bathroom so she quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"Lizzie, I'm so glad you answered," Cat's scared voice said from the other end. "I've been trying to reach you for the past twenty minutes. I-It's Lydia."

**November 7; 12:23PM**  
Will laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel Elizabeth's smooth lips on his, her warm tongue against his, her little hands all over his bare chest and back. He closed his eyes and thought of Elizabeth.

"You're still not up?"

Will opened his eyes and saw his sister standing over him. "How did you get in here? I didn't even hear you come in."

"What do you mean how did I get in here? I have a keycard."

"I never gave you a keycard." Will frowned.

Ana rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase that: I have _all _the keycards."

"Isn't that a breach of ethics? Using keycards to enter people's rooms?"

"You're not a person. You're my brother," she argued.

"That makes me less of a person?" Will scoffed.

"To me, it does." Ana stared at him. "What's wrong with you?"

Will sat up and made room for his sister to sit. "What do you mean?"

"It's late. Why are you still in bed? You don't even look sleepy. Have you just been laying here?" She sat down next to him over the covers.

"I'm fine. What time is it?"

Ana looked at her watch. "Nearly half past noon."

Will's eyes widened. It _was _late. "I didn't realize."

"Clearly." Ana sighed. "When is Lizzie going to be back? I want to take her out to lunch. Want to come with?"

Will's heart skipped a beat at mention of her name. "I don't know when she's going to be back. Her audition was at nine, I think."

"How long does it last?"

"I don't know. Did you ask the Gardiners?"

"No." Ana pouted. "Lizzie didn't tell you when she was going to be done?"

"No."

"What did you guys do after I ran out? I thought for sure you'd come after me."

Will felt his face heat up and avoided his sister's eyes. "Nothing, really."

"Why are you blushing like that?"

"When did you start calling her Lizzie?"

Ana gave him a strange look, indicating that she had noticed his abrupt subject change. "Isn't that what everyone calls her? Why _don't_ you call her Lizzie?"

"I'm not sure. I always figured it was a personal thing. Only her friends call her that or something."

"Well, you're her friend now."

"Yeah," Will said softly, thinking about how being friends was the_ last_ thing he wanted.

"So you should call her Lizzie. It's weird that you don't."

"Right," he replied absent-mindedly.

"Get dressed so we can go look for the Gardiners or Lizzie," Ana urged, tugging his arm.

**November 7; 12:32PM**  
Will decided to start calling her Lizzie. Most people would have just let it happen naturally, but he was not one of those people. He had never been one of those people. She had introduced herself to him as Elizabeth Bennet, so he called her Elizabeth. It wasn't like she minded. She had told him she liked the way he said her name, after all.

Will stopped his inner monologue to smile briefly at the memory.

Ana had started out calling her Elizabeth too, but in just a few days, she'd converted to Lizzie. It seemed easy enough for her, for most people.

Part of him liked that he was the only one that called her Elizabeth, but another part of him wondered if he was being left out. Lizzie was more personal, more intimate. Lizzie was a privilege for people who_ knew_ her.

He felt like he knew her now.

It was just too bad that he couldn't_ find_ her.

"I don't think she's in her room because I told the front desk to watch for her and let me know if she came in," Ana was saying as they walked down the stairs and into the lobby.

"Your stalking skills amaze me," Will muttered.

Ana shot him a look. "Hey, I'm putting more effort into this than you are. You're just walking about with a silly smile on your face. What's _with _you?"

"Nothing," Will replied, carefully arranging his face to look less…silly.

"Look, there's Mallory coming out of the elevator." Ana pointed to the woman who was now digging through her purse.

"Hey Mallory!" Ana greeted.

"Hello Ana, Will." Mallory nodded at each of them.

"How are you?" Will asked politely.

Mallory hesitated. "I'm fine, I suppose."

Ana didn't notice the hesitation. "Is Lizzie back from her audition yet? Do you know if she has plans for lunch?"

Will tried to read Mallory's face, but the older woman wasn't giving anything away. "She is back, but she's not feeling well. I think she's taking a nap."

"Did her audition go well?" Will asked.

Mallory let out a heavy sigh and looked away. "Not as well as she wanted."

Will frowned. "Is she alright?"

"Yes. She'll be fine, but she's probably not in the mood for company right now."

Ana pouted. "What happened at her audition?"

"It's probably best if you hear it from Lizzie."

"But she's not in the mood for company," Ana reminded her.

Mallory smiled patiently. "I'm sure she'll find you when she wants to talk, dear."

"Thanks for letting us know, Mallory," Will replied, hoping to make up for Ana's pestering.

"No problem." Mallory continued to dig in her purse until she found her phone. "Now, I really must get going now. Ed's been bugging me to go with him to see some sights. He says I should be more willing to share his interests since he's been so tolerant of mine." She rolled her eyes. "I'll see you kids later."

"Bye, Mallory," Ana said, still pouting.

"Enjoy your afternoon with your husband," Will told her politely.

_What happened during Elizabeth's – no,_ Lizzie's_ – audition? _

**November 7; 1:29PM**  
The knock at the door made Will look up from his book with a frown. Was Ana expecting someone? He could hear Ana's shower running, so he got up and answered the door. To his surprise, he found Elizabeth on the other side of the door.

"Elizabeth!" He smiled at her, then winced because he'd forgotten his pact to begin calling her Lizzie. Why was this so hard?

She looked taken aback by his presence too, but offered him a weak smile. "Hi. I was looking for Ana."

"She's in the shower."

Elizabeth nodded, looking distracted. "Okay."

"Do you want to come in and wait?" Will asked, opening the door wider.

"No, that's okay." Her eyes were distant and her voice was a carefully controlled tone that he'd never heard her use before. "I was actually just coming to tell her that I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Will repeated, not sure he'd heard her right.

She nodded again, leaning against the wall behind her and playing with her fingers. "I, um, I have to go."

Will studied her appearance more carefully. Elizabeth was wearing a pair of faded blue lounge pants that he thought he remembered her wearing during one of the many times they'd had dinner at Charlie's. He could see a yellow shirt peeking out from under her fitted white hoodie. Her hair was a little wet and tangled, and her eyes looked tired.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." She stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?" he asked skeptically.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and nodded. "I just have to go."

"Go where?"

"Back home." She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"But you said you weren't leaving until tomorrow afternoon." Will leaned against the doorframe.

"Yeah." Elizabeth pushed some hair away from her eyes. "That was the plan, but now I have to go. Mal and Ed are out, and I don't want to bother them or ruin their vacation – more than I'm sure I already have anyway. I thought I'd just leave a note for them. If I tell them in person they'll want to leave with me, and I don't want them to do that. I just feel bad if I left without saying anything to Ana…and you…so…" she trailed off.

"Why are you leaving a day early? Was it because of your audition?"

Elizabeth looked at him sharply. "How do you know about my audition?"

"Mallory told me it didn't go as well as you'd hoped," Will said quietly.

"That would be the understatement of the_ year_," she mumbled.

"What happened?" Will asked cautiously.

"I don't want to talk about it," Elizabeth replied tersely.

"Okay." Will watched her lower lip quiver for a second before she bit it.

How long they stood in silence, him studying Elizabeth and Elizabeth studying the wall on his left, Will had no idea.

Finally, she pushed herself off the wall and expelled a slow breath. "Could you just tell Ana for me?"

"Don't go," Will grabbed her arm as she began walking toward the stairs.

Elizabeth stopped. "I have to, Will."

"Because your audition didn't go well?" he asked in disbelief, not letting go of her. "Come on, just stay. Have a meal with us. Let us take your mind off things."

The corners of her lips curved a little, but she shook her head. "That sounds…wonderful. It really does. I-I can't though. It's not about the audition."

"Please don't leave, Elizabeth." Will gently pulled her arm so that she was standing face to face with him.

**November 7; 1:40PM**  
It shouldn't have been this hard to leave London – to leave _him_.

"I have to." Her voice cracked, and she could feel the tears she'd been holding back surfacing.

With a quick look at her face, Will dropped his hold on her arm. She thought he was finally going to let her go, but then she felt his arm slide around her shoulders. He pulled her so that she was in his arms completely, her face in the crook of his neck. When she felt his lips kiss her temple and his hand draw soothing circles on her back, the tears began to fall freely.

Lizzie realized, quite ridiculously, that she was probably getting his shirt dirty and wet, so she tried to pull away, but Will only held her tighter to him. "It's okay, Lizzie."

She'd never heard him call her Lizzie before. It was always Elizabeth with him, but there was so much going on in her mind right now that she couldn't even give it any proper thought. The tears became uncontrollable and soon she was sobbing into Will's chest.

Who or what she was crying for, Lizzie really had no idea. There were _so many_ things to cry for.

It could have been for Lydia, her naïve little sister who was fighting for her life in a hospital because she'd thrown away all of her sense and dignity for a man who had nothing good to offer. Poor, stupid Lydia who made a monumental mistake that, if she was lucky, would only result in the loss of her career. It could have been for Cat, who sounded so lost and betrayed on the phone. Cat, who never did anything without Lydia, and couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Lydia had done something without her. Maybe the tears were for Jane – kind, gentle, Jane – who had been through so much this year, and definitely didn't need another sister in the hospital. The tears could have even been for her mother, who loved many material things, but loved her daughters most of all. It could also be for the effect this would have on her mother's nerves.

Maybe Lizzie was crying for herself, for all the opportunities she'd screwed up. It all started with that car crash, but she wondered what would have happened if she'd been different. If she'd listened to Jane and stayed in, if she'd waited for help instead of yanking her leg out, if she'd let Will sew up her leg when they first got there, if she'd trained harder, if she'd been stronger, if she'd been smarter, if she'd been _better_.

Perhaps the tears were because Lizzie _wanted_ this and knew she couldn't have it. She wanted to be in Will's arms. She had never wanted anything like this, but her heart couldn't take it. It was filled to absolute capacity with ballet, and for her and Will to happen, her heart had to be free and open. She couldn't have both, no matter how much she _wanted_ it.

The ifs swam in her head and melded together into a loud, harsh voice that told her _this is all your fault_. All this pain was her fault. Lizzie deserved it.

Everything that had led up to this was her fault. She should have told Jane about Charlie. She should have told Lydia and Cat about George. She should have cleared her mind during the audition. She should have stopped being so self-involved. She should have realized there was more going on than her and ballet. She should have grown up sooner. She should have guarded her heart more carefully.

The hiccupping sobs continued until Lizzie felt exhausted and empty. Will's shirt was soaked with her tears and guilt.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie sniffled, pulling her head back to look at him. "Your shirt –"

"I don't care about that," Will replied quickly. He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe her face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Will threw her an incredulous look.

"I am." Lizzie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I actually need to go pack."

Before he could reply, Ana appeared behind him in her bathrobe. "Will? Is that Lizzie? Why didn't you invite her in? Why are you out here?" She caught a glimpse of Lizzie's face and her eyes widened. "Lizzie! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Lizzie tried to smile reassuringly as she pulled further out of Will's arms. "I actually just came to tell you goodbye."

"Goodbye? But you weren't supposed to leave until tomorrow!" Ana's pout reminded her so much of Lydia's, it was amazing.

"I have a bit of a family emergency at home," Lizzie told her honestly, glancing at Will for a second. He was studying her carefully with a strange look on his face. "So I have to leave right away."

"But-"

"Ana," Will cut her off with a stern look.

Her lower lip jutted out even more as she looked at Lizzie helplessly. "I can't believe you have to go so soon!"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"When will I see you again?" Ana demanded.

"Um," Lizzie hesitated, not wanting to lie to her. "I don't know."

"Christmas," Will answered.

Ana's eyes filled with hope. "I'll be in the States for Christmas! Will you let me visit you?"

"Okay." Lizzie bit her lip, wondering if she'd just made a promise she couldn't keep.

"Wonderful!" Ana threw her arms around Lizzie in a tight hug. "Have a safe trip, Lizzie."

Lizzie hugged her back. "Thank you."

"I'll walk you back to your room," Will offered.

"You don't have to."

"I insist."

There was no harm in him walking with her, she supposed. "Fine."

The walk to her room was silent, but Lizzie could feel Will's eyes on her the entire time.

"I'm fine," she told him again when they reached her door.

"So you've said," he replied quietly, his expression not changing. "Do you need help packing?"

"Sure," she answered before she could properly think about why it was a bad idea.

Her room was a bit of a mess. Her bed was unmade, her clothes were all over the floor, and there was a towel sitting on the night table.

Fortunately, Will made no comment about the state of the room. "What would you like me to do?"

"I don't know." Lizzie looked around. "I don't really need help. I'm just going to throw my things in the suitcase. My flight is at four. I need to be at the airport soon, I guess."

"Do you want me to drive you?"

His kindness unhinged her. "Don't," she whispered, hoping the tears wouldn't come back. "Don't be nice to me."

Will stared at her, surprise evident on his face. "Lizzie."

"I don't deserve it," she mumbled. "Everything…everything that's happening is because of me."

He pushed a few strands of hair behind her ears and tilted her chin so that she was looking at him. "What happened?"

Lizzie moved away from him and threw her open suitcase on the bed. "My sister, Lydia, was at a party…with George Wickham." She paused and glanced at him, searching for a reaction.

Will simply sat down on the bed and waited for her to continue.

"They were doing drugs. Mostly heroin, I think. There might have been cocaine and meth too. The police found some of it in the apartment." Lizzie shook her head disbelievingly. "George Wickham introduced my sister to _drug dealers_ and let her use _dirty_ needles to inject stuff into her body."

Lizzie picked up a few clothes and threw them violently into her suitcase. "And Lydia was stupid enough to _do_ it."

"None of this is your fault," Will told her gently.

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed miserably. "I knew she liked Wickham. We ran into him while we were shopping, after I got back from Texas. Lydia kept flirting with him even though I told her not to. She thought I didn't like him just because I was bitter that he stood me up at that party." Lizzie shook her head again, disgusted. "I should have told her that he had a history with drugs. I could have done it without mentioning you or Ana."

"You couldn't have known that he was going to get your sister involved, Lizzie."

Lizzie picked up more of her clothes and a few toiletries. "I still should have told her. She said she wouldn't see him again, and I thought that was that. Cat says that Lydia gave George her number when I wasn't looking."

Will remained silent.

"All this could have been prevented if I had just told my sisters everything." Lizzie put the items in her suitcase. "Lydia overdosed on heroin, and George just _left_ her there. He didn't even call an ambulance or anything. Nobody did_ anything_. The only reason Lydia even got medical attention was because the party got busted by the police."

Tears began to fall again, and Lizzie wiped at them furiously. "He just _used_ her. He knew she had money because of who our mom is. Cat says Lydia's been depleting her allowance faster than usual, and usually it's on new clothes that the twins share, but Lydia hadn't been showing any interest in shopping at all. She's probably been using all of her money on drugs." The tears were coming so fast that Lizzie could barely see. "She's in the hospital with a bunch of problems. Once the press get their hands on this, Lydia's future will be ruined. She and Cat had some contract to do a show, and who knows what will happen to that? Honestly, losing her career isn't even the worst that could happen. She hasn't woken up yet. They're testing her blood for all these diseases since she used dirty needles and stuff."

She stood there crying, her suitcase blurred by tears. Will gently pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"It's all my fault," Lizzie sobbed, clinging to his shirt.

"It's not." He rubbed her back soothingly. "Is there anything you need, Lizzie?"

"I need to go home," she whispered. Embarrassment was setting in. She'd sobbed in front of Will_ twice_ today.

"Okay. I'll drive you to the airport."

"No. It's okay. Look. I'm already packed. I'll just take a cab." There was no way she'd be able to sit in a car with him.

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Lizzie put her finger on his lips to stop him. "Thank you, for _everything_, Will." Then, Lizzie kissed him, because it seemed like something you do after someone held you while you sobbed. It was a brief kiss, nothing like a goodbye kiss ought to be, but it'd have to do because this _was _goodbye.

* * *

**Author's Note:** If I could, I would send everyone of you guys flowers for being so wonderful. However, I can't do that (time, money, and possibly stalker issues) so I'm just going to have to say THANK YOU a million times for brightening my day with your beautiful reviews. It seems you guys forgot about Lydia though! Mwahahaha. I'm sorry, I shouldn't get so much pleasure out of being mean, but I can't help it. :]

My betas are amazing and both helped me a lot with this chapter. So everyone should try sending Lizzy and Lyndell flowers.

Please review and tell me what you think (even if it's just to say you're upset with me lol)!


	22. I Am Flawed,But I Am Cleaning Up So Well

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: I Am Flawed, But I Am Cleaning Up So Well  
**

**---**

**November 8; 11:10AM**  
A nauseatingly artificial clean smell permeated the air. It was a smell that Lizzie had learned to associate with hospitals, and it disgusted her. Jane's foot tapped in time with the clock's rhythmical tick tock, and every few minutes, Cat's soft sniffles interrupted the pattern. Lizzie sat in between her sisters, one hand tightly grasping Jane's and the other stroking Cat's hair soothingly. Their mother was in Lydia's room, comforting her youngest daughter who had woken up a few hours ago to some rough news.

There were a dozen other people in the waiting room, Lizzie noticed. It was a horrible place to be, a waiting place. The air was heavy with a feeling of helplessness. That's why everyone was here. They were helpless and waiting someone who wasn't helpless to help them. Everyone in the room was helplessly waiting for something: loved ones, doctors, news, cures, answers…This was a horrible place to be.

Lizzie sighed, wondering how much longer her mother would stay here. Jane had tried to convince her to go home to get some rest when Lydia had woken up, but she refused to go anywhere until Lydia could actually leave.

"It's not as bad as it could be," Jane reminded them softly, interrupting Lizzie's thoughts.

"It's awful," Cat replied bitterly. "Everything's ruined."

"Not everything," Lizzie corrected. "Lydia's going to be okay."

"What about everything else?" Cat sniffled loudly.

"We can worry about that later. We should be focused on Lydia right now," Jane said gently. "She had a pretty high dose of heroin in her system, but they say she's developed a tolerance for it, which made it less lethal for her."

Lizzie held back a snort. It was so ironic that it was Lydia's addiction to the drug that might have saved her from it.

"It was lucky the police came when they did. The doctor said Lydia was only unconscious for a few minutes before they got her medical attention, so there shouldn't be much brain damage or anything," Jane continued, though for whose sake, Lizzie wasn't sure. "She hasn't contracted anything like HIV or hepatitis from the need – "

"I _know_," Cat cut her off. "I was there when the doctor said all that."

"Yes, of course," Jane whispered. "Of course you were. I just…"

Jane's voice trailed off when their mother emerged.

"She's sleeping," their mother announced as she led them to a more secluded area. "They're going to keep her here for a few more days. The police want her to name the people who were at the party, but she refuses."

Lizzie let out a soft curse.

"Why not?" Cat asked angrily. "Why is she trying to protect _them_?"

"Cat," the older woman pleaded softly. "Don't. Not right now. My poor nerves are just trying to cope with this. Please don't say anymore."

Catie narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe after everything, she's still willing to protect their stupid names."

"Maybe once she has more time to think about it, she'll come around," Jane suggested, always the peacemaker.

"It doesn't matter." Cat shook her head. "She's ruined everything. Once the press hear about this, our careers are over."

"Catherine!" their mother exclaimed. "Your sister is in the hospital –"

"Because of her own stupidity," she interjected.

"And all you can think about is your career!" Their mother had tears running down her cheeks and was staring at Cat as if she didn't recognize her.

"Well, _someone_ has to. Lydia sure as hell wasn't thinking about it when she went did drugs with George Wickham! If she doesn't give his name, I will," Cat said fiercely.

Lizzie was torn between scolding Cat for being so selfish and praising her for finally thinking for herself.

"I know Lydia's life was in danger," Cat added, her voice losing some of its venom. "I_ know_ that. They called _me_, remember? I'm just saying, she's going to be fine now, and it seems like _we're_ the ones that are going to have to pay for her mistakes."

"We're a family, Catie," Jane told her softly. "It wasn't just Lydia's mistake. We're her family. We should have seen this. We should have been there for her."

"_No_," Cat asserted. "I _was_ there for her, Jane. All I ever am is there for her, covering for her, helping her. Then she goes and does something like _this_, and _I_ have to give up _my_ dreams because _she_ did something stupid."

"Catie," Lizzie tried.

"You don't understand! None of you understand!" Cat exclaimed. "You all _have _your dreams! Mom got to be an actress, Jane got to be a model, Lizzie got to be a dancer! All _I_ get to be is some actress's daughter, some rich guy's unwanted kid, some model's less pretty sister, some dancer's less graceful sister, someone's forgotten twin. I never get to just be _me_. This show was supposed to be _it_ for us. It was supposed to show that we weren't the same person, she was Lydia and I was Catie. Then she went and ruined it."

"You don't know that she ruined it." Jane reached for her hand. "Your reps can do damage control. No one's heard about this yet, and we can – "

"There were photographers when you and I showed up, Jane," Cat hissed, snatching her hand away. "Of course this is going to get out, if not because of the tabloids, then definitely because of the news. This is actual news, Jane! Everyone will hear about it!"

"I have a meeting with your PR reps tomorrow," their mother said carefully. "We can try to fix this, Catie."

Cat snorted. "Good luck trying. It's _over_, Mom."

They all watched in stunned silence as Cat stalked off without a backwards glance.

Lizzie bit her lip, looking between Jane's worried face and their mother's tear streaked one.

"I'll go after her," Lizzie offered, knowing Jane was better with their mother than anyone.

It didn't take long to catch up to Cat, who had stopped right outside the hospital doors.

"There are photographers out there," Cat said, defeated.

"They don't know it's Lydia," Lizzie pointed out. "They saw you and Jane pulling up to the busted party and following the ambulance to this hospital. Beyond that, they don't know anything."

Cat bit her lip and said nothing.

"In the mood for some hospital food?" Lizzie asked.

"Yeah, okay," Cat answered after some contemplation.

Her sister remained silent throughout the walk to the cafeteria and while they chose food. She only muttered a quiet thanks when Lizzie paid for their food.

Lizzie took a few bites of her sandwich, hoping Cat would follow her example. Instead, Cat just moved her salad around on her plate.

She had no idea what to say, and only got out her sister's name.

"Catie."

"Are you ever jealous of Jane?" Cat asked at the same time Lizzie opened her mouth.

Lizzie had no idea how to answer truthfully without making Cat feel worse, so she took another bite out of her sandwich and chewed slowly, stalling.

"You never seem like you are," Catie said, looking down. "I guess I should ask _how_ you're not jealous of Jane when she's so perfect."

Lizzie swallowed. "Jane's not perfect, Cat."

"She's about as close as perfect as anyone will ever get," Cat argued. "She's gorgeous, she's nice, she always has the best clothes, and _everyone_ loves her."

"Your idea of perfect is different than mine," Lizzie replied. "I've never been jealous of Jane because even though it seems like she has everything, she's too good to realize it."

"I don't get it."

"Catie. I've never been jealous of Jane because there's no point. Jane is…the best person there is. She's kind and gentle and sweet. She'd never do anything to hurt anyone. She knows that she's good looking, but she doesn't throw it in your face. She doesn't believe that her looks give her some sort of entitlement to anything. She always shares her clothes. She's nice to everyone, whether they deserve it or not. It's very difficult to hate her."

"I'm not saying I _hate _her."

"I know, but I'm telling you this because jealousy will eventually turn into hatred, if you let it."

"I was jealous of all of you," Cat admitted with quiet shame.

"Why?"

"Because Jane is _perfect_, you're _talented_, and Lydia is everyone's _favorite_."

"Jane's not perfect, we've already been through this. Plus, remember how broken she was when Charlie left? Just because she's pretty and nice doesn't mean she gets everything she wants, Cat."

"Well, you're still talented."

Lizzie smiled sadly. "Talent doesn't mean I get everything I want either."

"And you're going to tell me being everyone's favorite doesn't mean Lydia will get everything she wants?" Cat guessed.

"No." Lizzie smirked. "I was going to tell you that, for what it's worth, Lydia's never been _my_ favorite."

Cat finally cracked a small smile.

**November 8; 2:29PM**  
"Elizabeth Bennet! How dare you leave London without telling us! How dare you tell us to 'enjoy the rest of our vacation!' How dare you tell the Darcys but not us! I'm so cross with you, Lizzie, I can't even think straight. Call me as soon as you get this and _explain_ yourself!"

Mallory's exasperated voicemail reminded Lizzie that there was more going on than just Lydia. There was so much more to think about: Royal Ballet damage control, more auditions, and…Will. The last few days had been one horrible roller coaster ride. It was the kind of roller coaster that lasted way too long, and all you wanted was for it to stop because you feel dizzy and sick and tired, but it didn't stop, it just took you for a whole new loop.

Lizzie sighed as she made a note to call Mallory later. When she walked into her living room, she found the TV was blaring MTV reality shows while Cat was fast asleep on the couch in front of it. It was a strange sort of normality that Lizzie had not expected, but appreciated nonetheless. It gave her hope that this ride might be slowing down soon.

**November 9; 7:56PM**  
"How come you never let us meet Mallory before?" Catie asked after telling the taxi driver her address.

"I didn't know you wanted to meet her," Lizzie replied truthfully.

"I like her," Cat said.

Lizzie smiled. "I think she liked you too."

"She really cared about Lydia, even though she doesn't know her," Cat muttered. "I wish I had more friends."

"You have plenty of friends, Cat."

"Not like Mallory. They don't really care about me. They care about Lydia."

This was a new side of her sister that Lizzie was ashamed to say she didn't know. She'd always seen Catie and Lydia as a pair, a very annoying pair. She had no idea that Cat wasn't _happy_ with that pair. She had never given any thought to the idea that Catie wanted to define herself without Lydia, that she felt second best to Lydia.

"I'm thinking about applying to college," Catie announced.

"Really?" Lizzie asked, surprised.

Cat nodded. "I mean, there's still time, right?"

"Yeah." Truthfully, she had no idea.

"Even if there's not, I can always go to community college first."

"You could."

"They cancelled our show," Cat said. "Did Jane tell you?"

"No," Lizzie replied. "I'm sorry, Catie."

Catie shrugged. "Lydia's got to go to rehab, so it's not like we can shoot a show about twins with only one twin."

"Have you talked to Lydia?"

"I've been with you."

Cat _had_ been with her. After sleeping for fourteen hours, Cat refused to go back to the hospital, insisting that she would talk to her twin later. Lizzie, not wanting to leave her alone, stayed with her. They went shopping for a few hours and then had dinner with Mallory, where Lizzie, with the help of Cat, relayed the story of Lydia.

"Well, do you_ want_ to go talk to Lydia? Jane says she's been asking about you."

"No," Cat replied quickly. "Why can't I stay with you tonight?"

"Mom wants you home," Lizzie answered.

"Probably to bug me about talking to Lydia."

"No, Jane made her promise she wouldn't."

Cat sighed. "Am I a horrible person for being mad at her?"

"No. Honestly, you're not." Lizzie bit her lip, trying to decide if she should share this next piece of information. "If she'd overdosed a day earlier and I had to come home before my audition, I wouldn't be able to forgive her right away either."

Her sister didn't say anything, but she rested her head on Lizzie's shoulder.

"Catie?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you'll forgive her one day."

When Cat didn't reply, Lizzie got worried.

"It's not good to blame others, Catie," Lizzie whispered, taking Cat's hand in her own and squeezing it. "Nobody wins."

"She deserves this blame."

"I know," Lizzie assured her quickly. "But don't you think she deserves a second chance?" Lizzie thought of Will's first words to her compared to his last words. "Not everyone gets it right on the first try, Catie."

Catie sighed.

Lizzie watched the city lights pass them as the taxi moved, trying to think of how to word what she wanted to say. "I'm just saying that blaming her won't make what she did go away."

"I don't have to forgive her right away, do I?"

"No, Catie. You can take your time."

"Okay." Then, "What if I wait until after I graduate college to forgive her?"

"Better late than never, I guess." Lizzie smiled. "So you're serious about college?"

"I think so. I could study acting there. Then I could be a real actress, not a reality TV star."

"You'd also be the only one out of your sisters to go to college."

Catie didn't say anything for a long time, and Lizzie thought she'd fallen asleep.

Just as the taxi was turned onto her street, Cat whispered, "Hey, Lizzie?"

"Yeah?"

"You were always my favorite sister."

Lizzie didn't know what to say, so she simply squeezed her sister's hand again, hoping the gesture conveyed what was in her heart, since her mouth could not.

**November 9; 8:43PM**  
There was a tall, blond man standing outside their apartment door. As Lizzie got closer, his features got more recognizable.

"Charlie?"

He tore his eyes away from the door to meet hers. "Lizzie!"

Lizzie studied him carefully. He looked agitated and couldn't seem to stand still. His hair was messy, as if he'd run his hand through it too many times, and his shirt was rumpled. His eyes, which were swirling with so many emotions that Lizzie couldn't read them all, had dark circles under them. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um, well, I came to talk to Jane." Charlie flinched when he said her name, and he was staring at Lizzie like he was afraid she might yell at him.

"Why?"

"Well, Will told me what he did." Charlie's wide eyes bored pleadingly into hers. "I know you know too."

Lizzie nodded, seeing no point in denying it.

"Right. So after Will told me, it just confirmed what a monumental mistake I made. I know it's been a while, a long while, but-but I want her back, Lizzie. I-I've been so miserable without her."

"She's with someone, Charlie," Lizzie told him as gently as she could. "It took her a while to get over you, and she's finally moved on."

Charlie looked pained. "I want to at least tell her I'm sorry. I know I can't ask for anything from her – especially if she's with someone and h-happy. I just need to explain myself to her, to tell her I didn't leave because of her but because of my own cowardice."

"How long have you been out here?" Lizzie asked curiously.

"About ten minutes," Charlie confessed sheepishly. "And I was outside the building for another twenty, trying to work up the nerve."

"I really – "

Suddenly, the door opened. "Lizzie, is that you?"

Jane froze when she spotted Charlie. She stood rooted in her spot, staring, open-mouthed. "Charlie?"

"Jane," he whispered with so much fervor it made Lizzie's heart hurt.

Without another word, Jane turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the door wide open.

Charlie looked at Lizzie, then the open door, then back at Lizzie again.

Lizzie shrugged, not sure what to do.

Taking her shrug as permission, Charlie followed Jane into the apartment, Lizzie at his heels.

"Jane, please, listen to me."

"Get out," Jane commanded with more hardness in her voice than Lizzie had ever heard from her older sister.

"Jane," Charlie whispered again, blue eyes wide and pleading.

"I said get out," she repeated, moving to go to her room.

Charlie quickly maneuvered closer to her. "Please just hear me out."

"What's there to hear out?" Jane asked, trying to walk around him, not meeting his eyes. "You left me. I think you made yourself quite clear."

"Please, Jane," Charlie said. "I've been miserable without you."

"_You_ left _me_!" she shouted, pushing him. "Get out!"

"Please," Charlie tried again, taking her wrists in his hands. "I know I've been a complete ass. I k_now_. Please let me make it up to you."

"No!" Jane yelled, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "_No_, Charlie! Get _out_!"

"Jane, I love you," Charlie said, pulling her wrists closer to his face to kiss. "I still love you, Jane."

"Stop it!" Jane screamed at him desperately. "It's too late, Charlie. I've moved on."

"I haven't, Jane." Charlie's eyes were wide with honesty. "I haven't moved on, Jane. I'm still as in love with you as I was a year ago."

"I don't care," Jane insisted, shaking her head, tears falling freely.

"_Please_, Jane. I'm so in love with you, and I just want another chance to be with you and make up for everything."

"No, Charlie. I can't. I won't take you back after everything you did to me."

"I'm _sorry_." He let go of her wrists so that he could use his hands to brush away stray tears from her face. "I'm so sorry for everything, Jane. I really am."

At first, Lizzie thought Jane had finally given in, but then, with her hands free, Jane used them to push Charlie away forcefully. "I said _no_, Charlie," she said harshly. "You left me, Charlie. You left me here to cry over you for _months_. You made me feel _worthless_. I won't cry over you again." She took advantage of Charlie's shock and quickly moved around him.

Charlie finally came out of his stupor and grabbed her wrist. "Jane. Please. You won't have to cry over me again. I won't ever make you cry again. Just give me another chance. Or at least hear me out. I didn't want to leave you, I didn't! They just convinced me that - "

"_No_," Jane said firmly, yanking her hand away. "No, Charlie. I don't care why you left. I don't care for your excuses. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you_ left_ me."

Then Jane quickly ran into her room before Charlie had a chance to stop her again.

**November 10; 9:20AM**  
Lizzie woke up to the muffled sound of voices. She listened carefully and recognized one of them as Jane's, and the other one to be…Will's?

She got up and pressed her ear to the door curiously. After Charlie had left last night, Jane locked herself in her room, refusing to talk to Lizzie. There was a lot of pestering on Lizzie's part and a lot of ignoring on Jane's part, before Lizzie finally gave up and went to bed. So the fact that Jane was out of her room and talking to Will Darcy was a rather unexpected turn of events.

"I appreciate you coming here and apologizing to me," Jane was saying. "But it doesn't change anything."

"It _should _though," Will insisted. "He didn't want to leave you, Jane. I forced him to. I wrongly judged you, and for that, I'm sorry. More than that, I'm sorry for causing you and my best friend pain. He really does love you."

"Charlie's a grown man," Jane argued. "Unless you physically dragged him to California and tied his hands to stop him from contacting me, I doubt you really forced him."

"Charlie trusts my opinion," Will said. "Maybe a bit too much. I abused his trust. I'm sorry."

"You may be responsible for putting the idea in his head, but in the end, it was Charlie's decision."

"He wasn't happy about it. He's been miserable without you."

If Jane said anything, Lizzie didn't hear it. She pressed her ear so hard on the wood of the door, she felt like she may fall right through it.

"Just think about it," Will said. Then she heard a door open and shut.

**November 10; 10:10AM**  
Lizzie found her sister curled up in her bed, crying. She quickly joined Jane, putting a comforting arm around her.

"I miss Charlie," Jane confessed quietly.

Lizzie nodded and began stroking her sister's hair soothingly. "I know."

"He doesn't deserve for me to take him back," Jane added in a shaky voice.

"But you still want to," Lizzie guessed.

"Does that make me stupid?"

"No," Lizzie replied. "It makes you human."

"I don't want to be that stupid, weak girl that always takes back her boyfriend after he's wronged her."

"You're not," Lizzie assured her.

"I will be," Jane insisted. "If I take him back, I will be."

"People make mistakes, Jane."

"This was a _big_ mistake."

"He's trying to make up for it," Lizzie pointed out. "And you still love him."

Jane was silent for a few minutes, and then she asked, "Why didn't you tell me about Will's involvement with Charlie?"

"I tried to," Lizzie said honestly. "He confessed all of that to me in a letter while I was in Texas. When I finally saw you after Fashion Week, you were talking about Noah and how you were over Charlie, I didn't know if there was a point to bringing him up. I didn't want to open up old wounds."

Jane nodded understandingly.

"I'm really sorry, Jane," Lizzie added.

"I forgive you," Jane replied without hesitation.

Lizzie was stunned. "Really?"

"Of course. You were just trying to protect me from more pain. I understand."

"Thanks, Jane. Thanks for being so wonderful."

Jane snorted. "It's nothing, Lizzie."

"I was so worried about you," Lizzie whispered. "I didn't know if I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. I really should have told you."

"Lizzie, it's okay."

Lizzie bit her lip. "It's not okay, Jane. If I had…If I had told you about Will's letter, we might have been able to save Lydia too."

"What do you mean?"

Lizzie took a deep breath and confessed _everything_ to her sister, starting with what happened in Texas and ending with leaving Will in London. When she was finished, Lizzie felt a huge burden lifted from her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry about your audition, Lizzie."

She shook her head. "It's okay, Jane. _I'm_ the one that should be sorry."

"You had no idea that Lydia would get involved with George, Lizzie. Even if you had told her he had a past with drugs, I don't think that would have stopped her."

"I can't help wondering though."

"Don't." Jane shifted and laid on her back. "Don't think about it, Lizzie. What happened happened, and there's nothing anyone can do to change it. All we can do is be grateful that Lydia's going to be okay."

"Yeah, I guess." Lizzie laid there, studying her sister's beautifully sad profile.

"Charlie gave Will a black eye."

"What?" There was no way she had heard Jane correctly.

"Charlie punched Will and gave him a black eye," Jane repeated. "Will told me when he came here. It's pretty bad."

"I can't imagine Charlie punching _anyone_." _Let alone Will_, Lizzie added silently to herself, wondering if it was just because of Jane. She considered asking Jane how bad Will's eye looked and if he had been in any pain, but before she could voice her concerns, Jane changed the subject.

"What should I do about Charlie?"

"He seems to really miss you, Jane."

"I miss him too," she whispered. "I'm scared though."

"It's okay to be scared, Janie."

"Are you afraid of being with Will?"

Her heart clenched at the thought of being with Will, and she couldn't answer right away. "Yes."

"It doesn't always have to be one or the other, Lizzie," Jane said quietly. "Just because Andrew made you choose doesn't mean Will is going to."

"It's not about that," Lizzie replied just as softly. "Not completely, anyway."

"Then what?"

"He distracts me from my dancing. I'm not as good when he's on my mind."

Jane didn't say anything for quite some time, and the only sounds that filled the room were their even breaths. "I don't want you to be alone forever, Lizzie."

"I'm not alone, Janie." Then she said, "I don't want you to be unhappy forever."

"I'm not unhappy."

"You're not happy either."

"I'll be even worse if I take Charlie back and he breaks up with me again."

"Do you really think he would?"

"I don't know," Jane replied. "But doesn't that say something? I can't trust him with my heart, so I shouldn't even bother."

"Maybe you could give him time to build your trust."

Jane made an annoyed sound. "I've always been a nice person, and I know you all tease me about it, but I've never felt there was anything wrong with being nice."

"There's not," Lizzie said quickly.

"Until you're being taken advantage of." Jane put a hand over her eyes. "I feel like Charlie is trying to take advantage of me being nice. If I take him back now, what's to stop him from treating me badly again, and expecting me to forgive him again? I think he knows I'll forgive him because I'm nice."

"I think he's just madly in love with you and your goodness," Lizzie said honestly.

She didn't miss the way Jane's lips curved at the idea before her sister quickly controlled them back into a hard line.

"You don't have to forgive him or take him back, Janie. I know he hurt you more than anyone has before." Lizzie paused. "I think he knows that too, Janie, and I think he wants to make it right."

Jane moved back on her side so that she faced Lizzie with an almost proud smile playing on her lips. "Lizzie, when did you get so mature?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey guys...I kind of feel like I should duck as you guys throw rotten vegetables at me. I'm_ so_ sorry for getting your hopes up earlier today with that fake update. I was editing a few of the older chapters, and I accidentally deleted chapter nine, so I had to re-upload it. I had no idea that the site was going to read that as a new chapter and send out notifications and stuff. I'm so, so, so sorry. But ummm, good news is that before I deleted that chapter, I had absolute nothing written for chapter 22, and after getting a few disappointed reviews, I felt awful and whipped this baby up in about two hours. Then my super fast beta got it back to me in record time. So thanks for making me feel bad and waking the muse up. Haha.

You know that paragraph about Lizzie feeling like she's on a roller coaster? Yeah, that's basically the same roller coaster I've been on. It doesn't look like it's stopping any time soon, but I'm trying really hard not to let that affect my writing.

As always, thanks for your wonderful feedback, and I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know your thoughts.


	23. Put My Records On, And Round I Spun

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Put My Records On, And Round I Spun  
**

**---**

**November 19; 4:50PM**  
No matter how wonderful a trip was, no matter how much Lizzie enjoyed herself while she was away, and no matter how long she was gone, Lizzie always found herself missing her own bed and her older sister. So Lizzie was definitely disappointed when she arrived home from San Francisco to find Cat asleep in her bed and Jane nowhere in sight.

Lizzie quietly dropped her belongings on the ground near her dresser, but couldn't bring herself to wake Catie and reclaim her bed. She walked into the kitchen to see if there was a note from Jane to explain her whereabouts.

Stuck to the refrigerator was a Post-It note written in Jane's hand. "Hope your audition went well. I'll be back soon."

Lizzie let her fingers trace the smooth curves of the letters on the paper, smiling as she remembered her audition for San Francisco. After the disaster at Royal Ballet, she had worried about her reputation and her own ability, but apparently, the worries were for nothing. There were whispers, of course, but nothing completely awful. The director of the company had been kind and seemed to have a genuine interest in her. She performed well during the audition, better than she could have hoped for considering all the problems that were weighing her down.

The fact that she was able to see her father and her old ballet instructor did a lot to lift her spirits. _These_ were the men that Lizzie loved. These were the men that she needed in her life. They asked nothing of her. They just supported her and loved her as she was. Thoughts of them didn't tear up her heart.

To say she hadn't given Will Darcy much thought would be a blatant lie. She'd gotten to know him more in London, but still found him to be a mystery. He had come to see Jane, but didn't ask to see her. What did that mean? It wasn't like she was complaining. After all, him giving her space was exactly what she needed to succeed in her audition. Space between her and Will Darcy meant space in her heart for ballet.

Though she could still feel his lips brushing against hers, the memory was not fresh enough to invade her every thought. If she allowed the music and movement to consume her, thoughts of him did not.

There was one point during her audition when she'd been so immersed into ballet, so happy, so light, so free, and Will's words entered her mind. She danced harder to rid herself of him, and eventually he left her. It worried her, though, that Will was so tied to ballet that she sometimes could not tell where her feelings for one began and the other ended.

Will Darcy was a weakness. He was a weakness she wasn't used to. She didn't know how to deal with him. She could burn away fat, train away instability, and chase away self-consciousness. She had no idea how to rid herself of this weakness though. The worst part was that she wasn't sure if she even wanted to.

**November 19; 5:30PM**  
Lizzie was amazed at how much had changed in the week that she'd been gone. She had emerged from her shower to find Cat preparing a dinner salad and making garlic bread.

"When did you start cooking?" Lizzie asked curiously.

Cat took a break from slicing tomatoes to roll her eyes. "This is hardly cooking, Lizzie."

She grinned at her younger sister. "Fine, when did you start being more than just a spoilt, rich brat?"

"Jane's been making me pitch in since I've been staying here." She stared determinedly at the cutting board.

"Why haven't you gone home?"

"You said I could stay here," her sister mumbled.

"I know. I didn't mean that."

"I know what you meant." Cat sighed. "I haven't talked to Lydia yet."

Lizzie frowned. "I thought we agreed that you could stay here if you talked to Lydia before she went to rehab."

Cat nodded. "We did. I _will_. How's your dad?"

"He's fine," Lizzie replied. "Don't try to change the subject."

"I wasn't. I thought we were done with the Lydia topic," Cat said innocently.

"What did you mean you will? Hasn't she already left for rehab? Jane said they were going to take her a few days ago."

"She was going to go some place in Jersey, but something happened and they found a better place for her so she's leaving tomorrow or something."

"What was wrong with the place in Jersey? Didn't Lydia pick that one herself?"

Cat's face darkened considerably. "She chose it because she found out that's where Wickham is right now."

Lizzie's frown deepened. "How on earth did she find that out?"

"He called her."

"_What_?" Lizzie was horrified and wondered why she hadn't been informed of any of this.

"Yep. He called her. He apologized for everything and asked her to forgive him. He said they could go to rehab together if she paid for his. She said yes, of course."

"When was this? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Cat shrugged. "He called her a few hours after you left. Me and Jane were keeping Mom company. I got up to call for a pizza, but Lydia was on the phone with him. I heard what she said. So when I found out that she chose a place in Jersey, I waited till Lydia fell asleep and then I told Mom and Jane about what I heard."

"Does she know you told on her?"

"Yes." Cat blew hair out of her face. "Now she hates me back."

"She doesn't hate you."

"I don't care."

"You did the right thing."

"Well, _duh_."

Lizzie couldn't help but smile. "So then Mom and Jane just chose a new rehab clinic?"

Cat shook her head. "They were looking at some places, but then someone came to the door later that night. I think it was a lawyer or something. They didn't want to answer because they were afraid it was press or something."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. They shooed me away, but after the person left, Mom and Jane seemed much more relieved, and they told Lydia that they were sending her somewhere else for rehab."

"Where?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell her in case she tells Wickham somehow."

Lizzie nodded in understanding. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Mom wanted to, but Jane didn't want to give you more to worry about while you were auditioning." Cat scooped up all the tomato slices and put them in the large salad bowl.

"So are you going to talk to Lydia before she leaves?"

Cat sighed. "I don't know what I'd even say to her to this point."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Cat turned to look her squarely in the eye.

Lizzie nodded. "I think so. I think at this point, she's impossible to reach. Maybe she'll be better once she's had help."

Cat breathed an audible sigh of relief. "So I can still stay here even if I don't talk to her?"

"Sure." Lizzie shrugged.

Just as Cat opened her mouth, both sisters heard the sound of a key scraping against the lock and the door opening.

"Cat? Lizzie?" Jane's voice called.

"In the kitchen!" Cat hollered back.

Jane came in and gave Lizzie a long hug. It was less of a hug and more of a collapse into her arms. Lizzie could tell her sister was exhausted.

When Jane pulled away, Lizzie took in her messy blonde hair, tired eyes, and strained smile with concern.

"How was your audition?"

"It went really well," Lizzie replied, still watching her sister carefully.

Jane's smile became a little more genuine. "That's good."

"How are you?"

"Tired," Jane answered honestly. "I broke up with Noah a few hours ago."

"Why?" Cat and Lizzie both asked at the same time.

Jane pulled herself up on the counter to sit. "It wasn't going anywhere. I'm still hung up on Charlie, and it was unfair to Noah."

_Had _everything_ changed this week?_ Lizzie wondered, flabbergasted.

"Are you going to get back together with Charlie?" Cat asked.

"No," Jane answered firmly. "He doesn't even know I broke up with Noah."

Cat glanced at the clock on the microwave. "Well, he'll be around here in a few hours. Are you going to tell him?"

"Wait," Lizzie said before Jane could answer. "Charlie's been coming by?"

Jane nodded grimly. "Every day."

"Why?"

"To grovel." Cat grinned deviously.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Something like that."

"It's working," Cat stage whispered to Lizzie.

"It is _not_," Jane protested. "It's _annoying_."

"Well, it got you to break up with Noah and admit you're still hung up on Charlie, didn't it?" Cat asked with a sly smile.

Lizzie watched Jane worry her lower lip between her teeth. "I'm not getting back together with Charlie."

"_Yet_," Cat added.

"Have you made the salad yet?" Jane asked suddenly, ending the entire Charlie discussion.

"Yeah, and the garlic bread," Cat answered. Then she turned to Lizzie. "You don't get on_ her_ case for changing the subject."

Lizzie shrugged helplessly, feeling like she should have been here with Cat and Jane instead of in San Francisco with ballet.

**November 19; 8:26PM**  
Lizzie was on her way to see Lydia when she caught a glimpse of Charlie in the hallway. He was carrying a very large bouquet of daisies and looking just as tired as he had a week ago.

"Hey Charlie," Lizzie greeted hesitantly.

"Lizzie!" Charlie had clearly been lost in his own thoughts and hadn't seen her. "How are you? When did you get back?"

"Just a few hours ago," Lizzie replied. "I'm good. How are you?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm okay."

"Those for Jane?" Lizzie gestured at the flowers.

"Yes." Charlie ran a free hand through his disheveled blond hair. "They're her favorite, right?"

"Right."

"I wasn't sure if she'd changed since we were together."

"Her favorite flowers haven't changed," Lizzie said carefully in case he was alluding to something more.

"Do you-do you think this is hopeless, Lizzie?" Charlie asked. "Am I just wasting my time?"

Lizzie bit her lip and tried to think of a way to answer honestly without betraying Jane or projecting her own feelings into the answer.

"I love her so much, Lizzie, and I know I made a mistake. I was just so in love with her – am, I _am_ still so in love with her – and I was so scared that she didn't feel the same way. I mean, she didn't say it back when I said it, then she didn't talk to me while she was away, and it just…I just…I know that's not an excuse. I know that I was a spineless coward. I'm trying to make up for everything it, for hurting her. I'm trying to show her that I can be better – for her. For Jane, I can be better. I know I can."

"Tell her that," Lizzie advised softly. "Tell her that, Charlie. Just like you told me."

Charlie's eyes brightened with hope, and he nodded.

"Good luck, Charlie."

"Thanks, Lizzie." With a smile, Charlie continued on his path to Jane.

**November 19; 9:06PM**  
Her mother, Lizzie decided, would probably never change.

Despite Lydia's "little problem," as she called it, her mother still coddled and fawned over her youngest daughter. Faye Delaney was folding clothes and packing them into a very large Louis Vuitton suitcase while Lydia smiled serenely in her bed as Lizzie stood in a corner, watching.

"You'll call me as often as they let you, won't you dear?"

"Of course, Mom," Lydia said. "Do you think there will be cute boys there?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. Hadn't Lydia learned _anything_ from this?

"I hope so, darling. You need someone to distract you from that awful George Wickham."

Lydia pouted in response.

"Well, I think I'm going to go," Lizzie announced, not sure how much more of this she could take.

"Oh, but you've only been here for ten minutes, Lizzie," her mother said.

"I just wanted to come check on you two."

"Will you come with us to see Lydia off?"

"I don't want to attract any attention."

"Oh, don't worry about that," her mother waved her hand airily. "Hasn't Jane told you all that's been taken care of?"

Lizzie frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her mother glanced at Lydia, who was listening curiously, before motioning Lizzie to the door. "Let me see you out, dear."

"Bye, Lydia. I'll see you soon," Lizzie said to her youngest sister.

"Bye, Lizzie," Lydia replied, unconcerned and already reaching for a magazine from her very large collection.

Once outside the room, her mother began, "The photographers have been paid off."

"What? How?" Lizzie asked, confused.

Her mother began talking, but Lizzie heard no words. A stray magazine, that somehow hadn't made its way to Lydia's room, captured her attention from the coffee table. Will Darcy was on the front cover, scowling at her.

She snatched it up and stared at it. The headline read, "Bingley to Darcy: 'Stay Away From Caroline.'" The main picture was of Will walking out of the hospital with a black eye. There were two smaller pictures, one of Will and Caroline in London, and the other of Charlie exiting a building, using his hand to cover his face.

"Lizzie, are you listening to me?"

Lizzie flipped open the magazine and ran her index finger down the table of contents, looking for the page the story was on. "Hmm?"

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?" her mother said. "You'd think with all the money Mr. Darcy has, he could pay the photographers to stay away from him _too_."

"Mm," Lizzie hummed, not really listening. As she searched for the story, her hands were shaking and her stomach was heavy with a feeling she didn't dare call nervousness.

"Maybe he doesn't have as much money as they say he does," her mother continued, not even phased that Lizzie wasn't paying her any attention. "I mean, he has to have_ some_, obviously. He's a hotel heir. Did you know that? I had _no_ idea!"

Lizzie skimmed the words before her. Some history about the Darcy name and Pemberley Hotels, something about how Will and Charlie had been best friends for years, then, the words Lizzie had been expecting but dreading at the same time.

_Will Darcy would not confirm or deny his relationship with Caroline Bingley, but sources close to both parties claim that they are together and happy, at least, until Caroline's overprotective brother found out. Charles Bingley seems to be the only one not happy for the couple and threw a fit when he found out that his best friend and his sister were together. When Darcy refused to break it off with Caroline, Bingley punched him_ –

"I mean, he was nice enough to pay for the photographers to stay away from Lydia for a while, but I just feel bad that he's the one being followed now."

Lizzie dropped the magazine in shock. "_What_?" she whispered, unable to make her voice any louder.

Her mother looked at her curiously. "Yes, dear, that's what I've been saying. He paid for the photographers to stop following us around."

"H-h-how do you know this?"

"His lawyer came by a few days ago to tell us everything. He said that he knew this was a difficult time for us, so he took care of the paparazzi and got Lydia into a very nice rehab clinic that the press wouldn't know about. He assured us that Lydia would have privacy as long as she stayed there."

"Will said this?" Lizzie croaked.

"The lawyer did."

"But…_why_?"

"Well, I suppose because Mr. Darcy told him to tell us."

"No!" Lizzie exclaimed so loudly that her mother jumped. "I mean, why did Will _do_ all of this?"

"The lawyer didn't tell us. Jane asked him, but he just said he wasn't at liberty to say. He also made us promise not to tell anyone." Her mother seemed to think over her next words. "I don't think I'm breaking a promise by telling _you_ though. You're family, after all."

"Right," Lizzie mumbled, bending to pick up the fallen magazine. "Do you mind if I keep this?"

"Yes, that's fine, dear." The older woman sighed. "So anyway, since the photographers aren't a problem, you'll come with us to see Lydia off, won't you?"

Lizzie nodded numbly. "Sure."

This had _clearly _been a very bad week to be away.

**November 19; 9:30PM**  
Charlie's flowers were in a vase, and Cat was asleep on the couch when Lizzie returned to her apartment. Lizzie knocked softly on Jane's door when she saw her sister's light was still on.

"Come in."

Lizzie pushed the door open and entered to find Jane reading the same magazine she held in her hand.

"Hey," Lizzie said.

Jane smiled. "It seems we have a lot of heart to hearts in my room."

"How do you know this will be a heart to heart?"

Jane gave her a knowing look and gestured at the magazine. "Did Mom tell you about what Will did?"

Lizzie nodded, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Her older sister patted the spot next to her on the bed, and Lizzie needed no further encouragement.

When they were both lying comfortably next to each other in Jane's bed, Lizzie asked, "Why did Will do that?"

"I don't know," Jane replied. "We tried it, you know."

"What?"

"Bribing the paparazzi."

"When?"

"I don't know. Mom and some of her people tried, then I talked to my manager about it."

"I'm guessing it didn't work."

Jane shrugged. "There are so many of them, Lizzie. You have to be able to bribe all of them. We have the money to do that, but we have to make sure to find all of them. They have to sign contracts and everything. If they don't, it's easy for them to just take the money and claim we never had a deal." Jane sighed. "It's even worse that what they'd be printing is the truth. So them taking pictures and selling the story isn't slander or libel or whatever. It's just the truth. They know it's the truth since there was news about it. Not about Lydia. They couldn't name Lydia because she's a minor. Our lawyers at least got that part for us."

"So you couldn't find all the photographers, basically?" Lizzie asked, needing clarification.

"Mom tried the photographers, I tried the magazines. I thought maybe if we asked them not to buy the pictures, the photographers wouldn't be able to do anything with them."

"That didn't work?"

Jane shook her head. "It's hard to talk to them. You tell them not to buy pictures, and they automatically want to know why. Everyone's so fueled by money these days, it's disgusting."

"Yeah," Lizzie agreed softly.

"In the end, Cat said we seemed to be putting so much effort into hiding Lydia's mistakes that we weren't thinking about Lydia herself."

"Cat said that?"

"Yeah," Jane replied, voice full of pride and awe. "She's grown up so much lately, hasn't she?"

"She has."

"Anyway, Lydia said it didn't matter. Her career was ruined anyway. She didn't care if they wrote things about her." Jane held her hand above her face and began playing with her nails. "She doesn't know though. She doesn't know what it's like to have horrible, awful things written about you. I mean, sure, they say stuff about the twins drinking and partying and stuff, but it's so different with this, don't you think? Mom wanted to save her from that."

"She needs to feel the consequences of her mistakes to learn, Jane."

"You don't think she has?"

"No," Lizzie replied honestly. "I really don't, Jane. She doesn't seem to feel any remorse."

Jane was silent for a long time. "She's so young."

"That's not an excuse."

"She told me she's in love with George."

Lizzie sat up so quickly she got a head rush. "She said _what_?"

Jane sat up as well, and then she moved so that they were face to face. "She thinks she's in love with him. She knows the drugs weren't a good thing, but she says she did them because she thought it would make George love her back."

"That's stupid."

"I know."

"What does she think about George just leaving her there when she passed out?" Lizzie demanded harshly.

"She forgives him."

Lizzie snorted, disgusted.

"I'm not saying I agree with her or anything like that. I'm just trying to get you to see her side. I feel like you've been on Cat's side without knowing Lydia's."

"Well, even knowing Lydia's side, I'm still with Cat." Lizzie shook her head. "If anything, knowing Lydia's side just cemented my belief that she'll never be anything more than a silly little girl until she has a wake up call. I thought _this _would be a wake up call, but clearly not."

"You can't expect so much from her, Lizzie." Jane bit her lip. "Not everyone is as strong as you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're better at love than us," Jane explained. "At refusing it, I mean, when it's not good for you. Like with Andrew. You loved him, I know you did. I know a lot of his friends said that you didn't love him enough, but I know you did. You loved him so much, but you were still able to cut him out of your life when you realized he wasn't good enough for you."

Whether she meant them to or not, Jane's words hit Lizzie with such force that it hurt to breathe for a second. As she fought to control her speeding heart, Will's face entered her mind.

"It takes an incredibly strong person to be like that, Lizzie. It takes a strong person to know that they're in a bad relationship, to know when to let go. Lydia isn't as strong as you. You shouldn't…you shouldn't blame her for that."

Lizzie banished Will from her thoughts and found her voice. "I don't."

Jane stared at her.

"I really don't," Lizzie insisted. "I don't blame her for believing she's in love with George or for the mistakes she made because of that belief. I blame her from not learning from her mistakes. For not taking this and letting it better her."

"Give her time."

Lizzie sighed, but nodded.

"I think she'll be a little better after rehab. Right now, she's kind of in a place where we can't do anything for her."

Lizzie nodded again.

The sisters sat in silence for a few minutes before Lizzie couldn't contain her question any longer. "What do you know about Will paying off the paparazzi?"

"Nothing," Jane said, eyes so full of honesty that Lizzie knew she couldn't question it. "His lawyer just told us not to worry about the photographers. We were sure there would be _some_ photographers somewhere, so we didn't get our hopes up, but it's been a week and there's been no one around us at all. I mean, it's not like Lydia's been out and about, but even Cat and me are left alone, and I'm almost _never _left alone. We thought the whole thing was just for Lydia's sake, but I guess it extends to all of us."

"We don't know why?"

Jane shrugged. "Mom's manager and accountants were calculating how much it would have cost to pull off something like this, and it's ridiculous. I have no idea why Will would do something like this for Lydia. I mean, I know he feels bad about interfering with me and Charlie, but he's already done his part to fix that."

"He knew about Wickham," Lizzie reminded her.

Jane nodded. "Yeah, but does he really think this is his fault?"

"It's more my fault than his," Lizzie muttered.

"It's _no one's_ fault." Jane said seriously. "Except Wickham's. And Lydia's."

"Have you tried getting in contact with Will? To ask him?"

"His lawyer said he doesn't want to be bothered. He just said Will wanted to do this, but he wants no credit or even acknowledgement for it."

"Someone should make him explain himself though." Lizzie ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "You can't just…do something like this, something this_ big_, and not give an explanation!"

"We don't have any way to contact him."

"We know where he works."

Jane smiled. "You want to stalk him at work, Lizzie?"

"I want an explanation!"

"You should go talk to him. He wants to see you anyway. He asked for you when he came to see me the other day."

"When did he come see you?"

"When he came to defend Charlie. Remember?"

"Oh." Lizzie had thought for a moment that he had come to see Jane a second time.

"He said he needed to talk to me, but before he said anything else, he asked if you were here. I said you were sleeping and asked if he wanted me to wake you up. He said no, and that it was 'probably for the best' anyway."

Lizzie frowned. What the hell did that mean? "Did he say why he was looking for me?"

"No," Jane replied. "You should go talk to him."

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

Jane rolled her eyes. "There's obviously things you guys need to sort out, and while you're there, maybe you can get an answer about his involvement with Lydia's mess too."

"What do you mean there are things we need to sort out? I just want an answer about Lydia."

"Lizzie," Jane said with a teasing smile. "I thought you were going to stop lying to me."

Lizzie mouth dropped open. "Jane!"

Jane laughed. "Come on, Lizzie. I know there's something going on with you two. "

Lizzie shook her head. "There's nothing. There can't be anything."

"Why?" Jane asked. "Because he distracts you?"

"Yes."

"Maybe it's a good thing."

"Not if I want a ballet career."

Jane sighed. "Just go talk to him, Lizzie. Even if it's just about Lydia."

Lizzie narrowed her eyes at her older sister.

"I'm not trying to play match maker," Jane said innocently, as if reading her mind. "I just want to know how he pulled off the whole Lydia thing. I doubt he'd talk to me."

"What makes you think he'll talk to me?"

"Just try, Lizzie. Seriously. I'm giving Charlie chance, so you should give Will one."

"That's different. You guys are in love."

Jane snorted indelicately. "We're talking about_ trying_ here, no one said anything about _love_."

Lizzie shook her head. "It's always about love, Jane."

**November 20; 8:20AM**  
Although she was expecting it, Lizzie was still surprised by the number of photographers crowded at the sidewalk across the street from the hospital. They all had very long lenses pointing at the hospital entrance, all waiting to get a photo.

She parked Jane's car and quickly made her way into the hospital to get away from the cold and the photographers.

It suddenly struck her that she had no idea how to even find Will. After some deliberation, she decided her best bet would be to just ask the person at the front desk.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, ma'am? How can I help you?"

Lizzie bit her lip. "I'm looking for Will Darcy."

The woman's face darkened. "Are you his patient?"

"No."

"Is he a doctor of a family member of yours?"

"No, but – "

"Ma'am, this is a place for sick people – "

"I'm not a photographer or anything," Lizzie said quickly, realizing how this must look.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, if you do not require medical attention and you are not a visitor of a sick friend or relative, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But, I really need to talk to him. He knows me. Can't you just call him or tell me where I can find him?"

"I'm sure you do, but I cannot help you," the woman said firmly.

"Can I leave him a note?" Lizzie asked desperately.

"We are not the post office, ma'am."

Lizzie couldn't help but bitterly think the paparazzi ruined everything. "He was my doctor once."

"Pardon me?"

"He stitched my leg up," Lizzie continued. "It's um, bothering me though." She winced at her awful lie.

"When did he stitch up your leg?"

"December."

"_Eleven months_ ago?" The woman cried.

Lizzie winced again. "Yes."

"Ma'am."

"It's really important I talk to him. About my leg, I mean. Can you call him?"

The woman shook her head. "He's not working today anyway."

Of course. "When will he be working next?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

It was clear she would get nowhere with this woman.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for wasting your time," Lizzie said, defeated.

When she got back into her car, the magazine with Will's picture on the front taunted her, reminding her that he'd remain a mystery. He'd remain her weakness, even as he gave her the space she had wished and pleaded for.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, I feel like I haven't updated in forever...oh, wait! I haven't. Yeah...sorry about that. Real life kind of got out of hand. Good news is that summer school is over. Bad news is fall semester starts on Wednesday. Haha. Sorry guys, I kind of have to graduate...

Anyway, thanks for all of your supportive reviews and PMs. I really appreciate it, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Please let me know what you think.

As always, thanks to my wonderful beta, Lyndell, for her corrections and suggestions.

Oh! And one more thing...I was going through my writing folder, and I have a lot of deleted scenes between Lizzie and Will and a lot of little drabbles that help me flesh out their relationship. I could edit them and post them after Closer is over, if you guys are interested. Some of them are fluffy, some of them are angsty, some are ridiculous...but I'm a fan of drabbles, I just don't know if you guys are. I also don't want to give you an overload of this story...but yeah, if it's something you think you'd want to read, just tell me in a review or PM and I'll work on getting them ready for posting after Closer is done.

Again, please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. You know I love hearing from you. :]


	24. Your Smile's All That Mattered

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Your Smile's All That Mattered  
**

**---**

**November 20; 10:56AM**  
"Is it really necessary for you to continue these lessons?" Mallory asked as Lizzie stretched her muscles. "I mean, you're going to get in somewhere, right?"

"Don't jinx it, Mal." Lizzie pulled off her leg warmers and began to put on her sweat pants.

"You better get in somewhere, Lizzie. If I put all this time and effort into you, only for you to –" Mallory stopped abruptly as an older woman dressed in a very expensive looking coat burst through the door with the receptionist hot on her heels.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here."

"Elizabeth Bennet!" the older woman said as she stood before Lizzie.

"Mrs. De Bourgh?" Lizzie asked, not quite believing her eyes.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist said to Mallory. "I tried to tell her that you two were busy but she got past me when I-"

"I need to speak with you, Miss Bennet."

Lizzie was unsure of what to do, and Mallory looked completely bewildered.

"Okay…"

"Privately," Mrs. De Bourgh commanded, looking at Mallory and the receptionist pointedly.

Mallory, affronted by this woman kicking her out of her own studio, scowled. "Listen here, ma'am, I won't have you coming in here and bossing people around. If you want to talk to Lizzie, you can wait in the lobby until we're done with our session. She's just getting dressed, and she'll be out soon."

Mrs. De Bourgh scowled back at Mallory. "Fine," she muttered, before leaving the studio.

The receptionist gave Mallory and Lizzie apologetic looks before following Mrs. De Bourgh out the door.

"Who was that?" Mallory asked.

Lizzie shrugged. "I met her at my friend, Charlotte's, wedding when I was in Texas."

"What does she want?"

"I really have no idea," Lizzie answered honestly, racking her mind for any possible reason, but coming up short.

"Do you want me to get rid of her?"

Lizzie grabbed her bag and looked around to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. "No, it's fine. I doubt we have much to talk about anyway."

She and Mallory walked together to the lobby in silence, but Lizzie could feel Mallory's apprehension coming off her in waves. The receptionist informed them that Mrs. De Bourgh was waiting for Lizzie outside.

Lizzie put on her coat and said goodbye to Mallory before exiting the building.

"Let's go across the street to that coffee shop," Mrs. De Bourgh said without preamble.

Lizzie nodded and followed the older woman. They got a table near the entrance and sat down.

"I'll make this quick," Mrs. De Bourgh began aggressively. "Are you or are you not dating my nephew, William Darcy?"

Whatever Lizzie had been expecting, it hadn't been this. She was speechless for a moment, feeling her mouth fall open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I think you heard me, young lady," Mrs. De Bourgh said sternly. "I would like to know what is going on between you and my nephew."

"I wasn't aware it was any of your business," Lizzie replied, staring into the older woman's cold eyes.

"You are interfering with my family here, so I believe it is my business."

"Interfering with your family?" Lizzie repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," Mrs. De Bourgh responded tersely. "William is very rich and powerful, and he doesn't need to be tied to someone like _you_."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "Like me?"

Mrs. De Bourgh slammed her hands flat on the table. "Yes, like you. Don't think I don't know all about you, Miss Bennet. You are a _nobody_. You're famous by association. Your mother was once a decent actress, but now she's known as a gold-digging spinster. Your father was born rich and will die rich, but he's done nothing with his life or for society. Your sister is quite pretty, but has no characteristics beyond that, and don't even get me started on those twins."

Once again, Lizzie found herself a loss for words. She could not believe this woman had the audacity to come seek her out to insult her like this.

Encouraged by Lizzie's lack of response, Mrs. De Bourgh continued, "Your family isn't even the main problem. Even considering you alone, you are not worthy of being connected to the Darcy name. You have no future, no prospects, no _talent._ Worse than that, you won't even give up. You could have taken your injury as a sign to stop and train yourself to be a good wife and mother, but instead you continue to pursue this foolish dream of being a dancer when clearly all you'll ever be is sub-par."

Lizzie quickly found her voice. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are? You know nothing about me –"

"I know more about you than you think," Mrs. De Bourgh interrupted. "I know your entire history. Don't you think I researched you when Royal Ballet called asking me to increase my yearly contribution in _your _name?"

"What?" Lizzie whispered, horrified.

Mrs. De Bourgh's thin lips stretched into a triumphant smile. "Yes, you didn't know about that, did you? Royal Ballet, who I've been a benefactor to for years, called me because they knew I was associated with you through very weak connections. They thought I was a _fan_ of yours, so they wanted more money from me to accept you. You couldn't even get into the company on _your own_. Are you still so sure that you can make it in the world as a dancer, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzie felt her throat close up and tears sting in her eyes. This could not be true.

"You fell at your audition, but they thought that you could still do well in the company. They called me because there had been talk that you were connected with the Darcys. I had no idea of any of this, so imagine my surprise when they explained it all to me. Apparently, more money from _me _would have shown my confidence in _you_. Of course, I told them I had to think about it, so I called my nephew, William." Mrs. De Bourgh sneered. "Do you know what he told me, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzie's heart was hammering so fast inside her chest that she thought it would break her ribcage at any moment.

"He told me not to donate any money to them!" she exclaimed when Lizzie didn't answer. "None! He didn't want me to help you at all," the older woman's voice rose victoriously with each word.

"So why do you think there's anything between us?" Lizzie's mind was spinning with questions and she didn't even think she wanted the answers to some of them.

Mrs. De Bourgh's smile faltered. "I asked him about you, and he seemed quite taken with you. He would not let me say one negative thing about you. He even hinted that I should stop fixing him up with other women actually worthy of him because he was interested in someone else."

"And you think that someone else is me?"

"I can't be too sure. He seemed to have an interest in you, but he didn't want you to succeed at Royal Ballet. Perhaps it's because he wants you to be a good wife, one that will take care of his children, rather than one that spends her whole life on stage. I don't know what his reasons are, but I do know that he's not completely sold on you."

"So why did you come all the way over here, if you know he's not completely sold?" Lizzie blinked rapidly to rid her eyes of the unshed tears.

"I need to be sure! I need to know that you will not pursue him in any way, shape, or form. I need you to know that he deserves more than you, more than the pathetic, insolent girl that you are. He deserves a real woman who will be there when he comes home with food on the table ready for him. He needs a woman who has time to raise children instead of selfishly going after her own dreams. He deserves someone better than _you_. I want you to understand that and promise me that you will allow him the opportunity to find that woman without you trying to take him for yourself. Will you promise me that?"

"No," Lizzie replied firmly without much thought.

"No?" Mrs. De Bourgh's face twisted with disgust. "What do you mean, _no_?"

"What does someone usually mean when they say no?" Lizzie snapped. "I can't believe you would come all the way over here to insult me in every way possible, then _demand_ that I never try to pursue your nephew. If I'm half as bad as you seem to think I am, then Will would have no interest in me anyway!"

"Of course he wouldn't, but he is a man. We can both agree you are a decent looking woman, and if you were to throw yourself at him, I'm not sure he would resist."

"Your views are completely ridiculous!" Lizzie cried. "First of all, there's more than one way to be a good wife, and I wouldn't consider just having dinner ready every night one of them! Just because I want my own career does not mean I'm a bad person and –"

"You're young," Mrs. De Bourgh said with an air of patience. "You don't understand what –"

"No!" Lizzie cut her off. "_You_ don't understand, Mrs. De Bourgh. Being young doesn't make me _ignorant_ and being old doesn't make you _wise_. Just like being independent doesn't make me undesirable and being _meek_ doesn't make you a good wife."

"You have a lot to learn about the world, Miss Bennet." Mrs. De Bourgh shook her head, as if giving up on a lost cause.

"Maybe I do, but so do you. Your views disgust me. Is this how you raise your daughter? You teach her that she's only successful if she has a husband to wait on? God, how old fashioned are you? Don't you want _more_ than that for her? Don't you want her to be more than someone's wife? Don't you want her to be her own person? Don't you want her to know she can do anything she wants, whether she has a man or not?"

"How I raise my daughter is none of your business, young lady."

Lizzie crossed her arms. "And how I live my life is none of _yours_, _old_ lady."

Mrs. De Bourgh smirked. "Us 'old ladies' know a thing or two."

"And you won't let me forget it." Lizzie rolled her eyes.

"I did not come here to talk about feminism with you, Miss Bennet. I simply came for one thing."

"Yeah, to ask me to promise never to tempt Will." Lizzie shook her head and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry you wasted your time and money, Mrs. De Bourgh, because you won't get that from me."

"Excuse me?"

"I refuse to promise you something so absurd." Lizzie reveled in the way the woman's eyes lost their confidence.

"So you're going to pursue William?"

"I didn't say that," Lizzie replied hastily.

"If you're not going to pursue him, why won't you promise me that you will _never_ pursue him?"

"Because it's a stupid promise to make. You're an idiot for even asking something like that."

"I did not come all this way to be spoken to like this! I did not come here to be insulted!"

Lizzie pretended to study her nails. "Oh really? Where do you usually go, then?"

Mrs. De Bourgh made a sound that was similar to a growl. "You listen to me, Elizabeth Bennet. I am willing to pay you money if you –"

"No," Lizzie said, not wishing to hear any more of this. "You listen to _me_, Catherine De Bourgh. Money may make your world go round, it may buy you whatever your empty little heart desires, but it doesn't work on me. I _have_ money, my _own_ money that I earned myself. I don't need yours. I will not give in to your stupid requests for the sake of money. That was the last of your insults I will listen to." Lizzie gracefully rose to her feet. "Have a good day, ma'am."

Without a backwards glance, Lizzie left the coffee shop, feeling like she'd just danced her best performance.

**November 20; 12:00PM**  
Lizzie wandered around Central Park for a long time, trying to digest and process the information. Will didn't want his aunt to pay her way into Royal Ballet. His reasons were just as vague as his reasons for bribing the paparazzi, maybe even worse. The bribes could have been because he felt guilty for not telling anyone about Wickham. Paying her way into Royal Ballet only had to do with her.

Lizzie ignored the painful sting in her chest as she thought about how Royal Ballet didn't want her unless she came with connections and money. Of course she'd known that those things would help her chances, but she didn't want to need them. She didn't want to have to depend on those things to get her to London.

Wasn't she enough?

She was Elizabeth Bennet, a prima ballerina. She had the natural ability, the ideal body type, the perfect feet.

The ugly scar, the marred calf, the _imperfection_.

Lizzie had always had talent on her side. She had always been talented. Sure, she had to work to hone the talent, to be better than everyone else, but there was no doubt that she was meant to be a ballet dancer.

When the accident had ripped away her muscle and years of work, she had her determination. She had worked so hard to be where she was now.

They were just a few cruel words, but they were also her worst fear.

She wasn't enough. All of her work, her reputation, her talent…it wasn't enough.

Lizzie, who had built her entire career around nothing more than talent and ambition, would have to use other ways to get in.

She didn't know if it was pride or stupidity to be this way. She had money and connections. She could easily use them.

How could she do that, though, without losing respect for herself?

Sure, it happened all the time in the ballet world, but she had never wanted any part of that. She had hated it when girls got promoted based on anything other than raw talent. If anyone could just _pay_ to be a ballet dancer, then why even practice?

Lizzie had told Mrs. De Bourgh that money didn't make her world go round, and it was true. It would remain true. She would not give into this. Lizzie would continue to do what she was doing and be true to who she was and what she believed in.

She loved ballet and dancing, but she wouldn't lose herself in the process. She wouldn't sacrifice what she believed in for a spot at a company. There were plenty of companies that would take her as she was.

**November 20; 1:23PM**  
By the time Lizzie reached her apartment, she was ready to just forget the entire day had ever happened. The door was unlocked, so she assumed her sister was home.

"Jane? Cat?" she called as she hung up her coat.

"They left a few minutes ago," a male voice said from the living room.

Lizzie froze, knowing that voice all too well. "Will?"

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, looking every bit as handsome as she remembered.

He smiled warmly. "Hi, Lizzie."

"What-What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to remember to breathe.

"I came to talk to you," he replied calmly.

"About what?"

"My aunt called me."

"Oh." Lizzie had no idea what to say to that.

"I should," he paused. "I need to apologize for her behavior."

"What?" Lizzie asked dumbly. Her mind wasn't working properly. "Why?"

"I feel like it's my fault she did everything she did. I'm sorry for everything she said to you, Lizzie."

"Why? _You _didn't say them."

Will winced. "I did at one point."

"Please! What you said pales in comparison to everything she said."

"I still need to apologize, Lizzie. She –"

"No, Will. Don't. You don't have to do this. I don't…I don't blame you for her words." Lizzie stared at him, amazed that he was even _here._ After all her worries about finding him, he found her.

He stared at her with an expression she couldn't quite name, and the tension between them was almost staggering. An uncomfortable silence continued until Lizzie could not contain her question any longer.

"Did you tell your aunt not to donate money to Royal Ballet?" Lizzie demanded more harshly than she had intended.

Will's forehead creased and he did not respond right away. "Why do you ask?"

"Did you?" she pressed, holding her breath, not sure what she hoped the answer would be.

"Yes," Will answered finally.

Lizzie sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, unable to define the feeling that overcame her body. "Why?"

He stared at her for a moment, a calculating look on his face. "Why do you ask?"

"Quit asking me that. Just answer my question please!" Lizzie cried.

"Why should she?" Will looked away for the first time. "She really has no interest in ballet. She was just donating to look good anyway. She likes to look cultured and tied to England and –"

"She said that if she gave money, I'd have gotten in." Lizzie worried her lower lip between her teeth.

His gaze snapped back to her, eyes wide, and Lizzie _knew_. She knew it was true. Mrs. De Bourgh's words might have been rude and out of line, but they were_ true_. "Why didn't you let her give them the donation?" she whispered.

"Lizzie," Will began, looking quite confused and unsure of himself.

"Or you could have done it," she said, almost to herself. "You could have paid them, if you didn't want her to. I know you have the money because you paid the magazines and photographers for Lydia."

Will groaned. "Not for Lydia."

"What?"

"Not for Lydia," Will repeated. "For you."

Lizzie broke eye contact and looked down at her feet, considering and discarding all the words she wanted to say to him.

"Lizzie," Will said, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't you see that it was all for you?"

She swallowed and met his eyes again. "What?"

"Everything I did for your family, asking the photographers and magazines to stay away, it was all to make things easier for you. I couldn't think of any other way to help you."

"You weren't obligated to help at all," Lizzie said softly, completely in awe of the man before her. "You didn't have to do anything."

Will gave her a half smile. "I can't see you upset and not do anything about it, Lizzie."

She felt her knees weaken, whether from his words or his smile, she wasn't sure. She leaned her back against the wall for support. "It wasn't your responsibility."

"Look, could we please just forget it? It doesn't matter. What I did…it's not important, Lizzie."

"Of course it is! Of course it matters!" she exclaimed. "How on earth could you do something so big and not even tell me? You could at least let me thank you."

"I didn't do it for your gratitude or recognition, Lizzie. I wanted to do something to help. I was happy to do it. Money doesn't matter to me. It wasn't an issue."

Lizzie frowned. "I still don't understand why you did it. Lydia wasn't your responsibility. You don't even like her. I mean, you don't really know her. Except that one time you met her at the party." She shook her head. "You don't care about them."

"But I care about you," Will told her quietly.

She bit her lip again and wrung her hands together. "Then why didn't you donate money to Royal Ballet for me? You knew I wanted to get in there."

"You said part of you wanted to stay in the States," he reminded her.

"But part of me wanted to leave!"

Will smiled at her tenderly. "Are you really cross with me because I didn't let my aunt buy your way in?"

"That's not the issue!"

"Then what is?" he asked, smile still in place.

Lizzie ran a hand through her hair, pulling the hair tie out in one fluid motion. "Your aunt said you did it because you didn't want me to succeed at Royal Ballet."

Will's smile disappeared and a familiar scowl took its place. "You believed that rubbish?" he asked indignantly.

"Do you have a better reason?" Lizzie challenged.

"I knew you didn't need any help!"

"Apparently, I did!"

Will shook his head. "Just because you didn't do well at Royal Ballet doesn't mean your career is over."

"But –"

"Lizzie, you were an amazing dancer before the accident, and you've healed and trained yourself to be an even better dancer now. Your career is far from over."

"You didn't know that!" she protested. "France turned me down!"

Will laughed. "You're not always going to get what you want, Lizzie. Jane told me you didn't even really want France. Your French is terrible anyway. It's probably as bad as mine."

Lizzie put her hands on her hips, exasperated. "Focus, Will!"

He laughed again and tentatively put both of his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, you want to know the reason I didn't let my aunt donate money in your name?" Carefully, he inched closer. "It wasn't because we didn't have the money. We both know that's not the case. It wasn't about money. It definitely wasn't because I didn't want you to succeed, because I do." He gazed at her imploringly. "I _do_, Lizzie. I care about you so much and I just want you to be happy. If I thought giving money to Royal Ballet to get you a spot would make you happy, I would have done it a thousand times without hesitation."

Will took a deep breath. "But I know you, Lizzie. You're strong and independent and talented. I didn't give them any money or allow my aunt to give them any money because I knew you wanted to get in on your own terms. You've gone this far on your own, and whether you got in or not, I knew you would want it to be because of you. Not because of money or me or Mallory or anything other than _you_ and _your talent_. You wouldn't be the woman I-" Will stopped abruptly and took another deep breath. "You wouldn't be the Elizabeth Bennet I know if you just let someone buy your way into a company."

Lizzie stared into his gray eyes, completely at a loss for words. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she let out a long exhale. Everything he said was completely true. She wouldn't have wanted to get in because of connections or money. She wanted a spot at a company based on her talent, nothing more, nothing less. Will had understood this. He understood this about her. He believed in her. He thought she could succeed on her own, and he wanted her to. She had no idea what to do except collapse into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on to him for dear life.

Will's arms folded around her body carefully and held her to him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck.

They remained like that for a long time, neither one speaking, afraid to break the spell that seemed to have cast itself around them.

"Thank you for everything you've done, Will," Lizzie whispered into his skin. "For me, for Jane, for Lydia."

Will let out a soft sigh. "It was all for you, Lizzie. You have to know it was all for you."

Her head became light with happiness and her stomach came alive with butterflies. She tightened her arms around him and hoped this feeling never ended.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Lyndell for editing and you guys for reviewing. You all seriously inspire me.

Umm, no offense to England or Royal Ballet...I had to make someone the bad guy. I don't really know how often people pay their way into companies...and I don't really imagine Royal Ballet accepting bribes. So...just remember it's all fiction, and I made it this way to fit my plot.

There's the Will/Lizzie scene you guys have been asking for. Hope it lives up to your expectations...We're not done though, guys. We still have a few issues to work out, a few more auditions to go through, and some loose ends to tie up. So I hope you're still enjoying the story. Please leave me your thoughts. :]


	25. Love Was Surely Made For Fools Like Me

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Love Was Surely Made For Fools Like Me**

**---**

**November 23; 9:10AM**  
This would end with a fall.

Lizzie just had a feeling. She'd been here before. She'd done this before. She knew how this would end.

There was a studio, some whispers, some directors. There was Will Darcy on her mind, in her heart, under her skin. There was cause for alarm.

She'd done this before. She felt like she was in the same studio, in the same clothes with the same worries. This was the same audition, different details. Different location, different directors, different moves. The details were inconsequential compared to this_ feeling_ that she'd _done_ this before. She knew how this would end.

So then why didn't Lizzie feel the same kind of panic she had felt in London when Will had intruded her thoughts. She was dancing in front of the directors of the American Ballet Theatre, and Will Darcy was on her mind. This was definitely cause for alarm, so she didn't know why she _wasn't_ alarmed.

Maybe because while she was warming up, she finally understood that being with Will didn't mean being _without _ballet. Maybe they could exist peacefully inside her heart, together. Maybe she could make room in her heart for both of them, because she wanted both of them so badly.

Being in Will's arms made her feel like she could have both of them, together, at the same time. Will understood her enough to know how much she needed to be a ballet dancer on her own terms, but he still wanted her anyway. The wall she had put up between ballet and the rest of the world seemed to crumble when she was with him. When she untangled herself from his arms a few days ago, her heart had remained entwined with his, and she was completely happy with that.

Lizzie was beginning to understand that Will was less of a heavy burden and more of an anchor of support and stability.

She still had no idea how it would work, if it _could_ work. There were many more details to work out, but she finally saw that there was more to _life_ than ballet. Her heart was big enough to fit ballet _and more_, and she wanted to be able to fit Will Darcy.

Because that was the thing. They _fit_.

Will looked at her, and sometimes she felt like he knew her better than she knew herself. Lizzie finally, _finally_ felt like she knew who he was, and she'd be crazy to give that up without trying.

Lizzie felt Will's presence in her steps, in her jumps, in her heart. Instead of crippling her, she felt herself move more gracefully, leap more powerfully, dance more beautifully. It was exhilarating.

She didn't think about falling, she just thought about ballet and Will, and how much she loved the them both.

**November 23; 3:01PM**  
Jane and Charlie were sitting together on the couch, hands entwined, when Lizzie returned to the apartment. Jane was laughing at something Charlie said, and Charlie was grinning, looking very much like he had months ago.

"Hey guys."

"Lizzie!" Jane greeted, smiling widely. "How did your audition go?"

"Really well," Lizzie replied. "I have a good feeling about it."

"Was this ABT or NYCB?" Charlie asked.

"ABT." Lizzie dropped her keys on the coffee table and sank down into the wingback chair.

"NYCB won't let her audition until after Christmas," Jane told him, her mouth now a thin line.

Charlie matched Jane's expression. "Why not?"

"After the whole fiasco with Lydia, I had to reschedule my auditions. NYCB didn't have time in their schedule to see me until later. They need to focus on the Christmas season right now. ABT does too, but they made a special exception for me," Lizzie explained.

"That was nice of them."

Lizzie shrugged sheepishly. "I've known the director for a while."

"He's been trying to steal you away from NYCB for a while," Jane reminded her. Then she said to Charlie, "She feels bad about knowing him. Lizzie hates using connections to get things."

"But you knew the NYCB director for a while, didn't you? Why couldn't they make an exception for you too?"

"They don't deserve you, Lizzie," Jane said fiercely, before Lizzie could even open her mouth to respond.

"Well, if I get in at ABT, I won't audition for NYCB anyway." Lizzie shrugged again. "It works out. I'm so tired of auditioning anyway. You know how much it bores me."

"What if you don't get into ABT?" After a pause, Charlie's eyes got wide. "Not that I'm saying you won't! I mean –"

Jane patted his knee reassuringly with her free hand. "It's okay, Charlie."

"It really is," Lizzie agreed, staring at the way Jane's hand didn't move from Charlie's leg. "If I don't get in, I can go to San Francisco. Mary told me they called this morning to offer me a spot."

"Lizzie! That's great!" Jane removed herself from Charlie to give her a hug.

"You want the apartment to yourself, don't you?" Lizzie asked jokingly, returning her sister's embrace.

Jane rolled her eyes as she resumed her seat. "Don't pretend you're not excited about this, Lizzie. I know how badly you wanted San Francisco."

"I did want it." Lizzie paused. "I _do_ want it. It's nice to know I have somewhere to go if ABT doesn't work out."

"Was ABT your first choice?" Charlie asked, arm unconsciously hugging Jane's shoulder.

"It was tied with San Francisco for a while," Lizzie admitted. "I think I really liked the idea of getting away from the New York ballet scene for a while because of all the criticism I was getting, but being back here has made me realize how much I love this city and how much I want to prove myself to them."

Jane looked satisfied. "Hey, Charlie and I are going to dinner later tonight. You should come with us."

"You should, Lizzie!" Charlie agreed. "We could make it a celebration."

"I haven't gotten into ABT yet!"

"But you're in at San Francisco."

"I don't want to be a third wheel." Lizzie bit her lip, trying to watch Jane's reaction at the implication that she and Charlie were a couple.

"We could invite Will," Jane suggested, seemingly oblivious to the meaning behind Lizzie's words.

Lizzie smiled. Jane hadn't denied that she and Charlie were a couple. Maybe she had taken Charlie back. Lizzie would have to talk to her sister about it later for confirmation. "Is Charlie talking to Will now?"

"I was never not talking to Will."

"Really?"

"I was upset with him, that was a given, but I've forgiven him. We're fine, just not hanging out a lot because he's dealing with the press, and I think it's better if it seems like I'm mad at him anyway. I've realized that Will was just looking out for me and it's more my fault for listening to his bad advice than his fault for offering it to me. I knew more about my relationship with Jane than Will did, but I still listened to him. It was my inability to grow a pair and just trust my own gut."

Jane, who had been looking at the floor when Charlie started his explanation, was now looking at the blond man with a happy, brilliant smile.

"How's your sister doing, Jane?" Charlie asked, obviously wanting a topic change.

"Which one?"

"Lydia."

"Oh." Jane's shoulders sagged a bit. "She's unhappy in rehab."

"That's to be expected," Lizzie reminded her dryly.

Jane nodded. "I guess it's just bad timing since Thanksgiving's in a week, and Mom feels like Lydia should be with us for that."

"Mom's going to fly out and be with her though," Lizzie said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Lydia was clearly their mother's favorite. Everyone had known that, but Lizzie hadn't expected her to abandon Cat during Thanksgiving for Lydia. Cat insisted she'd rather stay with Lizzie and Jane for Thanksgiving anyway, but Lizzie saw Cat's anger at their mother through her false smiles.

"I'm sure Lydia will be okay eventually. Sometimes it takes something like missing out on family holidays to get through to someone," Charlie said carefully.

Lizzie smiled at Charlie's effort. "Maybe."

"What are your plans for Thanksgiving, Charlie?" Jane asked.

"Charlie, did you send those flowers?" Lizzie asked suddenly, effectively cutting off Charlie's answer, when she noticed the beautiful arrangement of lilies on the end table that definitely had not been there when she left this morning.

"No. _Will _sent them to_ you_." Jane grinned.

"What?" Lizzie stood up to inspect the flowers. "When?"

"They came about an hour ago," Jane answered. "By the way, where were you? I thought you said your audition would be over before noon."

"It was. I went to the ballet studio to dance because I felt so restless. Then I had lunch with Mallory and Ed." Lizzie dug through the flowers and found a small card.

_Lizzie,  
__Hope your audition went well. Please give me a call later. I'd like to hear from you.__Yours, Will  
743-5764_

Lizzie read the card twice, and then reread it a third time, in case she'd missed something. A greeting, three sentences, a closing, and his phone number. That's all it was, yet her heart was racing.

"Is Will working today?" Lizzie asked, her voice cracking a bit for no apparent reason.

"I think so," Charlie answered, watching her curiously. "Did the card not say?"

"Would she ask if it did?" Jane teased.

Charlie playfully pinched her arm. "Just checking."

Their sweet, couple-like behavior (or just_ couple_ behavior, she wasn't quite sure) was cute, but Lizzie wasn't sure how much of it she could take without _actually_ feeling like a third wheel.

"Are you going to call him?" Jane asked curiously.

"Should I?"

"If he left you his number, so I'm going to say yes."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. "You are just _sassy_ today, aren't you, Jane?"

"She is," Charlie agreed, nodding. "Go call Will, and I'll teach her a lesson."

"Please don't do it on our couch." Lizzie shot them both a knowing look before walking out of the apartment with her cell phone. She heard Jane and Charlie laugh as she closed the door.

It took her several deep breaths before she forced her fingers to dial the number left on the card. Lizzie counted seven rings and thought about hanging up, but Will's voice stopped her.

"You've reached Will Darcy. I obviously am not here right now, so please leave your name, number, and a short message. I will get back to you as soon as possible."

Lizzie smiled at the brevity and terseness of the message, but realized she had nothing to say, so she hung up.

She stared at the card, wondering what she would have even said if he had picked up. Gathering up her nerve, Lizzie redialed the number. She chewed on her thumbnail while she waited through the seven rings and the voice mail message.

"Hi, Will," Lizzie began, taking her finger away from her mouth. "It's Elizabeth…Bennet. It's Lizzie." She paused to cringe at this awful start. "I got your flowers. Thank you so much for sending them. They're lovely. My audition went really well. It's actually the last of my auditions for a while." _This was a bad idea_, Lizzie thought miserably. She forged on anyway.

"I hope you're doing well. Jane and Charlie want to go to dinner tonight. I don't want to be a third wheel, so you should definitely come." Lizzie took a breath. "I'd really like to see you," she admitted softly.

Lizzie smiled ruefully. "I think I was supposed to keep this message short. I guess just give me a call when you can."

**November 23; 6:30PM**  
Will didn't call. It did nothing to settle her thoughts. All she could think was wouldn't it be ironic that when she was finally ready to let Will in, he decided he didn't want her anymore?

Charlie had invited them back to his place, where he'd cook. Only Jane accepted. Lizzie decided to order Chinese and curl up with a book to try to stop thinking about Will.

Her phone gave a shrill ring just as she was finishing her chicken stir-fry. The number looked familiar, but Lizzie couldn't figure out why.

"Hello?" She gathered the chopsticks and used containers with her free hand to put in the garbage.

"Lizzie? It's Will."

Her mouth dropped open and her hand dropped the containers. "Will?"

"Yeah."

Lizzie stared at the small mess on the ground and contemplated what she should tell him first. There was nowhere to start. There were too many things, all too long and seemingly inappropriate to say over the phone.

"Are you still there?" Will asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes." Lizzie knelt to pick up the small boxes and grains of rice that had scattered. "Sorry. How are you?"

"I'm good. I got your message."

Lizzie couldn't read his voice over the phone. She couldn't even remember what she had said in that message.

"I'm sorry it took me a while to call you back," Will continued. "I was at work. Are you still having dinner with Charlie and Jane?"

"No," Lizzie replied, wondering how that would look to him. "I actually just ate."

"I see. Are you at your apartment?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "Would you like to come over?"

"Sure," he answered without hesitation, allowing her to exhale. "When?"

"Now?"

"Alright. I'm in a cab right now, so I can be there in about ten minutes."

"Okay."

"I'll see you then."

"Okay."

"Bye, Lizzie."

Lizzie swallowed. _Why _did he affect her so much? "Bye."

After hanging up, Lizzie came to the realization that the floor was still a mess and so was she. She quickly finished cleaning up the mess before washing her hands and rushing to her room to change out of her pajamas.

She was running a brush through her wild hair when there was a knock at the door. Lizzie looked down at herself for one final inspection. She was wearing a pair of comfortable blue jeans and the same evergreen sweater she'd worn in London.

The apartment was a bit of a mess, Lizzie noticed as she walked to the door, but there was nothing to be done about it now. It probably didn't matter, since Will had been here just a few days prior, and it hadn't seemed to bother him then.

Lizzie opened the door, not sure why she felt so nervous. "Hi."

"Hi, Lizzie." Will smiled at her. It was a subtle, easy curve of his mouth, and it captivated her. Without thinking, she moved so that their bodies were touching and her arms were around his neck. He didn't hesitate in returning her embrace, holding her body tightly against his.

He dropped a familiar kiss on her forehead, but it wasn't enough for Lizzie. She turned her head up so that the second time his lips descended on her skin, they would be on her mouth.

Lizzie heard Will give an appreciative hum as he began to kiss her slowly. She took one hand away from his neck to reach behind her and close the door so she could lean back against it. She knew her legs would not hold her up for very long.

After approximately ten seconds of devastatingly slow exploring, Will's lips became more urgent, and Lizzie kissed him back with just as much fervor. The poetic scene ended the moment Lizzie opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance. They were both desperate. They were sloppy. Teeth clanked and tongues clashed as they tried keep up with each other.

Will's body pressed hers against the door, one hand was in her hair and the other was on her hip. He dragged his mouth away from hers and began placing brief kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

A soft moan escaped her mouth when his lips closed over her pulse point and sucked. He trailed more kisses on her bare shoulder, and Lizzie was very, very glad she wore an off-the-shoulder sweater. Her skin burned deliciously with every inch his lips conquered and the sound of their combined breaths made her hot and dizzy.

Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed, making them both very aware that they were making out in the hallway like two hormonal teenagers.

Will was the first to right himself, pulling away from her just enough so that she could adjust her sweater.

Lizzie cleared her throat, relieved to see Will's face was as flushed as she was sure hers was. Though whether it was from what they'd done or where they'd done it, Lizzie wasn't quite sure. "Do you want to come in?"

He let out a sound that might have been a laugh had it not sounded so choked. "Yes."

Lizzie opened the door, but he gestured that she should enter first. Even now, his small acts of chivalry surprised her, though she knew they shouldn't.

They both stood awkwardly in the living room, neither one wanting to look away.

"How was work?" Lizzie asked, ignoring the way her fingers itched to touch him again. She sat on the couch so that she would have something to do other than think about recreating the hallway scene in her living room.

"It was fine. How was your audition?" Will's breathing still hadn't returned to normal, but he looked like he was putting in great effort to control it as he sat down next to her.

"It went really well," Lizzie answered, allowing their denim-clad knees to touch nonchalantly. "I, um, I came to a revelation."

Will's forehead creased. "Did you?"

Lizzie nodded, though he couldn't see because he was staring at their touching knees. "It's kind of hard to explain."

He met her eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's probably not hard to understand. You know me so well. I'll probably just have trouble articulating it," Lizzie admitted honestly. "Can I get you anything?"

She meant to ask that before they sat down, probably before she had launched herself at him, but she didn't. Now, judging from the way he was looking at her with his smoldering gray eyes, it was a loaded question. Maybe it had always been a loaded question.

"I'm fine. Tell me about your revelation."

"Can I ask you something first?"

"Alright." His posture stiffened, a sure sign he was becoming uncomfortable.

"It's kind of personal," Lizzie warned, hating that the statement probably wouldn't make him any less uncomfortable.

She was right. His back didn't lose its rigidity, but he didn't disagree. He simply nodded and watched her with wary eyes.

Lizzie wondered if he was tired of this, of her. She knew she was often difficult to deal with. His aunt's words kept screaming at her. She wasn't good enough for Will. Not because she was independent or a ballet dancer, but because she was _Elizabeth Bennet_. She was stubborn and _obsessed _with ballet and volatile.

"Do you still love me?" she whispered. It wasn't the question she meant to ask him, but it was a question that had been plaguing her for a long time.

The crease in his forehead deepened, and his eyes did not change. "How can you ask me that, Lizzie?"

She bit her lip and tried to keep the tears at bay. "I'm sorry."

"After everything, you're still unsure?" he asked in disbelief. He stood up, and for a second, Lizzie thought he was going to leave. However, he simply kneeled on the floor so that he was looking at her face to face.

She wrung her hands together and resisted the urge to bite her nails. Lizzie bowed her head to allow her hair to fall over her face and hide her insecurities.

Will's hands pushed her hair back behind her ears and cupped her face gently. "I don't know how to make myself any more clear to you, Lizzie."

His lips descended on hers, but before she could respond, he pulled away.

The pads of his thumb wiped away tears she hadn't realized she'd been shedding.

"When did you know?" she asked quietly. _That _was the question she had meant to ask him before.

"That I loved you?"

Her heart raced at the words. "Yes."

"I don't know," Will replied honestly. "I can't give you the exact hour or spot or action that laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun."

Lizzie cautiously took both of his hands in hers and laced their fingers. "You weren't very nice to me when you first met me."

His lips curved into the small smile that never failed to make her stomach swoop. "You weren't nice to me either. In fact, if I recall correctly, I'd say you were uncivil to me for much longer than I was to you."

"You liked it," Lizzie teased. "You're attracted to women with bad manners."

Will guffawed. "If that were the case, I'd be with Caroline." He laughed again at Lizzie's sour face. "However, I think it'd be more appropriate to say that I'm attracted to _a woman_ with _endearingly_ bad manners."

"Are we still talking about Caroline?" Lizzie pretended to sulk.

"How about a woman with endearingly bad manners who is embarrassingly oblivious of my affections?" Will stood up and pulled her with him.

"Fine." She was too distracted by his proximity to continue arguing.

"It's difficult for me to give you anymore than I already am, when I'm getting no encouragement, Lizzie," he admitted. "I'm a very prideful man, as you know. There's only so much rejection from you I can take."

"I'm not rejecting you now," Lizzie whispered, tilting her head up.

Will's eyes remained on her lips longer than necessary, especially since he didn't even kiss her. "Really?"

Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a shy peck on the corner of his mouth. "Really."

It was all the encouragement he needed. His lips seemed to meet hers at the same time that his body pushed hers so that the back of her legs hit the couch. She would have fallen back, had his hands not held her hips and steadied her. His hot tongue was making dives into her mouth, making her frantic and frying her brain. This wouldn't do. She needed to tell him things.

With a lot of effort, she pulled her mouth away. "Will?"

"Mm?" He was kissing his way down her neck again.

"I think we need to – oh!" His mouth had found her pulse point again.

"Need to what?" he asked. She could feel his smile against her skin.

"Hmm." She was distracted. "We need to, um, talk."

"About what?" Will abandoned her neck for a moment, only to settle near her ear. "I thought we were done talking."

"Don't you want to hear about my revelation?" Lizzie asked, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as his hot breath sent shivers through her body.

Will traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. "Maybe later."

Lizzie swallowed. "It's, um, really important."

"Alright." He gave her one last kiss just below her ear before pulling away, though he kept his hands on her hips.

"Right," Lizzie said, concentrating on slowing her out of control heart. "Right."

"Right," Will repeated, amused.

Lizzie took a deep breath and gathered as much of her courage as possible. "The thing is… I'm messed up."

Will frowned. "Was this your revelation?"

"Kind of." Lizzie bit her lip. "I mean, I don't think I'll ever – that is – I don't know if I'm wired the same way as other people."

"Because of your passion for ballet?"

"Yeah," Lizzie sighed, relieved that he knew her so well. "For a long time, I thought that I could only have ballet and nothing else. I couldn't love ballet and something else."

Will nodded. "Why not?"

"I feel like I have to be focused. It was even worse this year because I was trying to go back to the dancer I was before the accident." Lizzie looked away. "I couldn't stop thinking about you at my audition at Royal Ballet, and I fell."

There was no response from Will, and Lizzie didn't want to look at him just yet.

"I don't blame you or anything. I mean, obviously, it's not your fault that I couldn't focus. It just…got me worried, you know? Because we weren't even together then, but you had such a hold on my heart."

A pause, then Will asked, "And now?"

"And now," Lizzie looked up to meet his guarded eyes before continuing, "I'm madly in love with you, and I don't want to be without you."

Lizzie heard him inhale sharply and watched as a range of emotions crossed his face. They moved to quickly for her to read accurately, but the one that stayed was pure happiness. "I love you too."

Her body was melting into his, and she'd never felt more comfortable. He bent his head to give her a soft kiss. "I love your passion." He gave her another kiss. "I love how much you love your family." Another one. "I love your persistence." Another kiss, this one a bit longer. "I love your stubbornness and your strength." Another kiss, this time he missed her lips and got right under her nose. "I love everything about you, Lizzie."

"And you're okay with the ballet obsession?" Lizzie asked, because she wasn't sure if she could handle being asked to give it up, not by Will.

"It's a part of you. How could I not be okay with it?" He moved to kiss her, but she pulled away, needing to be sure.

"It's hard to deal with sometimes."

"Y_ou're _hard to deal with sometimes." Will's eyes were teasing.

"I know but –"

"Lizzie," Will interrupted. "I know that being a ballet dancer is synonymous to being_ alive_ for you. So why would I ever be bothered by it?"

The air in her lungs felt insufficient. His words squeezed her heart and made it ache in a way she'd never known. "_You _make me feel alive too," Lizzie told him softly.

Will's soft lips were on hers again. This time, she didn't move out of the way. His tongue entered her mouth, slowly rediscovering and thoroughly caressing hers. She let him claim her mouth the way he had claimed her heart.

It had taken her a while, but Lizzie finally realized that falling for Will did not mean falling while dancing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know a few chapters ago, I said this story would be about thirty chapters, but I managed to condense it into twenty-five. I have an epilogue planned, so technically twenty-six. If there's anything you would like to see in the epilogue, please let me know (since I'm still kind of unsure what I should write in it). I'll try very hard to include your suggestions/requests. The only thing I won't write is another wedding because I don't believe every story has to end with a wedding. Hopefully it won't take two weeks to get out, but I can't make any promises. :/

Other than that, I really hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter and the story. Many, many thanks to Lizzy and Lyndell for editing this for me! Also thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter and is still reading.

This is so bittersweet for me, guys. I'm really excited and sad that this story is one chapter from being over.

Please review. :]


	26. Epilogue: I Ain't The Way You Found Me

**Closer by everymonday**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: I Ain't The Way You Found Me**

**---**

**January 22; 9:20AM**  
Rather than the harsh alarm beep that had been waking her up for the past few mornings, Lizzie woke up to the feel of lips on her neck and gentle fingers in her hair.

"Wake up." Will's breath was warm against her skin.

She hummed contently but kept her eyes closed.

"Lizzie." His voice was a bit louder now, sterner too. "You have an interview, love."

"What time is it?" Lizzie wrapped her arms around Will's neck and tangled her legs with his. "It feels early."

A deep chuckle made his chest reverberate against hers. "It's a little after nine**. **It's not early at all."

"For you," she pouted. "I don't have early sessions with Mallory anymore."

"Yes, you changed them to later so I see you less."

With her eyes still closed, she kissed the closest part of him she could reach. She thought it might be the bridge of his nose, the piece of his face that was most abused because he pinched it so often when stressed. "You like watching me dance."

"I do," he breathed, catching her lips in a sweet kiss.

The minty taste of his mouth made her open her eyes. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes. I've been up for a while. I made you breakfast."

She smiled. "That's why I sleep over."

Will arched an eyebrow and slipped a hand underneath the shirt she was wearing. "Oh really? That's the only reason you sleep over?"

Her heartbeat quickened at the way his voice lowered. "Well, maybe for other reasons too."

"You need to get up." Despite his words, Will's arms held her tightly, and he made no move to let her actually get out of his bed.

Her fingers played with the hairs at the base of his neck. "How about I skip the interview and stay in bed with you instead?"

Will moved so that he was propped up on his left elbow, his right hand under her shirt, drawing intricate patterns into her lower back. "That would be very unprofessional of you, Miss Bennet."

"Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Darcy?" Lizzie rubbed her nose against his.

"Your eggs are going to get cold," Will said, still making no move to release her.

"How about I skip breakfast, and stay in bed with you for twenty more minutes before going to my interview?" Her legs carefully untangled themselves to wrap around his waist and, she pulled Will's body so that it was on top of hers.

Will put both of his arms on either side of her head and closed his eyes. "As a doctor, I must warn you that it's very unhealthy to skip breakfast, Lizzie."

Lizzie flexed her hips. "And as my boyfriend?"

She received no verbal answer from said boyfriend, only a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

**January 22; 10:17AM**  
Lizzie was running about two minutes late to her interview. Normally, it would not have been something she would have noticed, but Will wouldn't let her forget it.

The interviewer was easy to find. She was the only one in the cafe with a voice recorder and a large notebook on the table instead of a cup of coffee. The blonde woman looked up when Lizzie entered, but didn't recognize her until Lizzie pulled off her hat and sunglasses.

"Miss Bennet!" The blonde stood up so quickly that the chair behind her fell over with a clang. Blushing fiercely, she hastily apologized to the man behind her and picked up the chair.

"Hi," Lizzie smiled and offered her hand. "You can call me Elizabeth."

"Right. Thanks." She took Lizzie's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "I'm Jenna McNair."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too. I've been a big fan of yours for years," Jenna said, resuming her seat.

Lizzie sat down in the seat across from her, just as the waitress came.

"I'll just have a vanilla soy latte, please," Lizzie ordered, glancing at the menu. "How are your scones?"

"They're good. Blueberry's my favorite," the waitress said.

"I'll have a blueberry scone too then." Lizzie smiled as she handed the waitress her menu.

The waitress returned the smile before looking at Jenna. "Your coffee will be out in a minute, ma'am."

"Thank you," Jenna said, though she wasn't looking at the waitress. She was fiddling with her electronics. As soon as the waitress left, Jenna said, "I have to tell you, it's surreal to be here with you."

"Really?"

Jenna nodded. "I've admired you for years. I went to as many of your shows as I could."

"Do you do ballet?" Lizzie asked.

"I used to. I started when I was ten, and danced in college, but I was never good enough to do it professionally, so I got a journalism degree." Jenna's eyes shone with what could only be excitement. "I fought so hard to be the one to interview you for this issue."

Lizzie smiled. "I'm flattered."

"Do you want to get started now, or do you want to wait for your coffee?"

"Now's fine."

"Okay. I guess my first question is why didn't you go back to NYCB?"

"They didn't have time to give me a personal audition, so I'd have to wait until open auditions or after the winter season to audition." Lizzie answered simply, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Jenna nodded, eyes wide. "How many companies did you audition for?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Oh." Her shoulders slumped. "Okay. How about why ABT?"

"I wanted to challenge myself to do classic repertoire. It's a style I've always loved, but haven't had as much experience with. I also have a lot of outside factors keeping me in New York." Lizzie smiled as Will's face appeared in her mind.

"Does it bother you that you're a corps de ballet dancer again?"

"No. Of course I want to dance bigger roles, but just a year ago, people were telling me that I'd never dance again, so the fact that ABT is giving me the chance to perform and be on stage again is wonderful. I appreciate every chance I get to dance." Lizzie shrugged, not liking this question. "I see this as another chance to move through the ranks."

"What do you have to say to the people who didn't think you'd come back to ballet?"

"There's nothing to say, really," Lizzie replied carefully. "Their predictions weren't completely off base and definitely weren't malicious. I'm sure a lot of dancers in my position would have just cut their losses and done something else."

Jenna opened her mouth to ask another question, but the waitress returned with their coffees and Lizzie's scone.

"Thank you," Lizzie said politely to the waitress before taking a bite out of her scone. Skipping breakfast had not made her stomach happy, but it was a small price to pay for her wonderful morning with Will.

"What makes you different from those dancers?"

"I suppose it depends on who you ask," Lizzie answered. "There are a lot of different factors, I think. Persistence, a great instructor, love for ballet, stupidity." Lizzie smiled at the last one.

"Talent?" Jenna pressed.

Lizzie shrugged. "Honestly, I think that without all the other factors, talent wouldn't have meant very much. You can be talented but just lack the motivation. I don't think talent alone guarantees success."

"I agree." The blonde picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip as she flipped through her notebook. "What did you learn about yourself since your accident?"

"I've learned that there are more important things to me than ballet."

"But – " Jenna's eyebrows knit. "But you said love of ballet made you different from other dancers."

Lizzie nodded. "I did. I just learned that I could have more in my life than ballet. That it doesn't have to be the most important thing in my life. I was so obsessed with proving everyone wrong and getting back on stage that I think I lost sight of other things in life that matter."

"Like what?"

"Like family." Lizzie took a bit of her scone, thinking of her sisters and how much she loved them all, individually and together. She thought about how much she wished Lydia would stay clean, how much she wanted Catie to find herself at college this semester, and how much she hoped Jane would continue to find happiness, with Charlie and without him.

After swallowing, Lizzie continued, "And friendships and relationships with people, rather than just a relationship with ballet."

"How is your relationship going with William Darcy?"

Lizzie had been expecting this question. Though the interview was about her returning to ballet and starting at ABT in the spring, her manager had warned her that her relationship with Will would be brought up. "It's going well."

"Is it difficult to date someone with such a busy schedule?"

"No." Lizzie hid her smile behind her coffee cup, knowing her answer was insufficient and wondering if Jenna would press her.

"You and your sister, Jane, are both dating high profile celebrities. Does this have any effect on your relationship?"

"How do you mean?"

"Is there ever competition between you and your sister? Who can get more press, for example?"

Lizzie laughed. "No. If anything, we compete to see who can stay out of the press. Jane loses because she's recognized more by more people, because she's kind of an international celebrity - "

"You're famous internationally too," the blonde interrupted.

"True, but only by people who like ballet. Jane's recognized by anyone that likes pretty people. Charlie's more popular than Will too."

Jenna nodded. "When did you and Will start dating?"

Lizzie wasn't sure she liked the interviewer calling him Will when she had never met him, but she didn't comment. "Officially, I think it's some time in November."

"And unofficially?"

"We don't really know. The transition from acquaintances to friends to lovers wasn't clear. I don't think the beginning really matters." She thought about how Will said he was already in the middle before he knew he had begun.

The blonde's eyes bulged at the word_ lovers_. Lizzie could tell she wanted to pursue the topic, but was weighing the pros and cons of doing so.

Lizzie made the decision for her. "I'd rather talk more about my dancing. I don't want this interview to be something that looks like it was for _The Enquirer_."

**January 22; 12:26PM**  
Will met her at her apartment when she was done with the interview. Lizzie's mouth felt dry from the coffee and the talking, but her heart fluttered when she saw him.

"How'd it go?"

Lizzie shrugged and opened her apartment door. "She was more interested in you than in me."

Will chuckled as he followed her inside. "Funny, when Ana does interviews, they're always more interested in us than her."

"No one ever wants to just talk about the person they're interviewing anymore," Lizzie grumbled, hugging him tightly after the door closed.

Will hugged her back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "So, no good questions?"

"Nothing unexpected."

"How disappointing." Will's fingers played with her hair.

"Not for Mary."

He shrugged. "Will I learn anything new when I read this interview?"

Lizzie rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. "Did you know I love you very much?"

"I did not know that," Will said, though his grin said differently.

"Well, you won't learn that from the interview because I didn't tell her that." Lizzie smiled at how boyish Will looked with his gray eyes bright with amusement and his mouth stretched with happiness.

"Guess you'll just have to tell me yourself then."

Lizzie stood on her toes to kiss his lips briefly. "I love you."

"Mm," Will hummed. "I love you too."

"Good, because I don't plan on giving you up any time soon."

"Not even for ballet?" Will asked playfully.

Lizzie shook her head. "Never. Not for anything."

Will kissed her nose. "It's hard to believe that a year ago, you would've never said that."

"Well, it's also hard to believe a year ago, you thought you were too good for me," Lizzie teased.

"I suppose we've both changed."

"Love's a funny thing," Lizzie observed, pulling Will down for a proper kiss.

Love _is_ a funny thing. It doesn't begin at the same moment a relationship decidedly does, with touches and glances and determination. It is not bound by agreements or contracts or compromises. It starts in thin, delicate wisps and never reveals itself until it is completely formed, and by then it's too late to push it away. It's too heavy, too hard, too concrete. It stays and invades and conquers. It drives you to do crazy things in its name. It won't cease until every part of you yearns and hurts and _sings_. It leaves visible, stinging marks on your heart the way the summer sun does to your skin. It peels and fades and takes heavy casualties. Love is a battle. Love is a pushing and pulling of heartstrings and nerve endings. Love is a growing up.

_The End._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Brace yourselves, it's a long one.

Okay, first of all, I have to give my infinite gratitude to every single one of you who have been following this story. If you signed up for alerts, put it on your favorites, or reviewed, I thank you so much for taking time out to read it. Very, very, very special thanks to lynniern, keiraliz, geril, Ms. Dom Masbolle, Diamond and Stars, snapeisalive, karmencorn, Lucy65, honuangel, sara71, nourkina018, and addicted2obsession, who have reviewed so often and consistently that I feel absolutely spoiled. I know I missed people, and I'm sorry. You guys should know that you all have made writing this story such an enjoyable experience for me. I would not have been able to finish it without your encouragement and support. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Also, everyone should thank my amazing betas, Lizzy and Lyndell. Without them, this story would not be what it is now. Their vigilant editing has made me a much better writer.

I know I basically included none of your suggestions in this epilogue, but I will put all (seven!) of my drafts in the out takes (I know, shameless plugging, I'm sorry). I just really wanted a poetic ending that would tie back to the beginning, and I really wanted subtlety. I hope this epilogue wraps things up for you. I know there's no engagement or wedding or kids, but I hope you realize I left Will and Lizzie in a nice place where they can just _be_ with each other. I like this idea of love bringing people closer and closer, but never meshing them together in a way that they lose themselves, just _closer_, which is where the title comes from.

The deleted scenes will be up later this week (if my schedule allows), and there will be no sequel. I hope you guys have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!

This is the last time I will beg you for reviews for this story, so you might as well appease me this time. Pleaseeeee.


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